


Sanity: Optional

by TipsyArmadillo



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Canon-typical Insanity, Feels, Humor, One Shot Collection
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-06
Updated: 2016-02-06
Packaged: 2018-02-12 00:26:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 19
Words: 19,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2088756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TipsyArmadillo/pseuds/TipsyArmadillo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What happens when you mix an ex-Decepticon warlord with a crew of outcasts and oddballs? Megatrons new role as Captain of the Lost Light is turning out to be stranger than he ever imagined.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I CAN'T BELIEVE NO ONE HAS DONE THIS YET!!! Megatron is on the Lost Light! Guys! GUYS!!! MEGATRON IS ABOARD THE LOST LIGHT GUYS!!! I mean ... YES! This is everything I ever wanted in my life.
> 
> So, basically this a series of little snippets of life aboard everyones favorite nuthouse. Because it had to be done. So enjoy! Or maintain an air of tolerant disappointment. Either way is fine.

"He's up to something," Swerve declared, waving an empty cup at said offender.

Skids turned to look. No surprise, Swerve was talking about Whirl, resident glitch head and all around asshole. "You know," he said, turning back. "I would be shocked - _shocked_ \- if Whirl wasn't up to something. In fact, if the day ever comes when Whirl isn't up to something you come get me immediately. I don't know why or what for but that is the day something bad happens to us all."

Swerve blinked. "Yeah, ok. Whatever. Just thought it was weird how he kept looking at you and doing that - that _thing_. You know the thing right?"

"I do not know the thing."

A hand was waved vaguely around Swerved general face area. "Come on, everyone knows the thing. It's creepy. You know, where he has no face but, like, you can still tell he's smiling."

Skids' drink thumped down on the counter. "Wait. You mean to tell me Whirl's been looking at me and smiling _this whole time!_ And you didn't _tell me_?" A long pause ensued in which Swerve didn't speak so that was probably a bad thing. Skids backtracked through the conversation. Right. "Oh for the love of - I'm not even apologizing for that. Whirls up to something!"

The blue mech made a wild dash for Whirl while Swerve muttered under his breath.

Cyclonus, who had been sitting silently in the spot next to Skids, fixed his laser gaze on the poor barkeep. "What did you just call me?"

 

*

 

Skids was running. Running fast. If anyone saw him they might have thought he was running for his life. The truth was, he was running for Getaways life. He had to save his friend from himself.

He skid (heh) around the corner to see a crowd of mechs already there.

"Oh Primus no."

Tailgate waved him over to where the crowd (consisting of Tailgate, Bluestreak, Brainstorm, Rewind and, oddly enough, Ultra Magnus) were jammed against the window, watching the mechs inside in a less that stealthy way. Brainstorm waved him over and Skids tiptoed up to the window, watching with the dreaded feeling of knowing he couldn't help his friend now. He could only watch helplessly as inevitable destruction was rained down upon his poor, soon-to-be-departed friend.

The crowd was silent. Megatrons voice could be heard.

"-could mention one more detail. I understand you're quite the escape artist."

"Yes sir," Getaway confirmed cheerfully. "Best there is, in fact. I once freed a group of five hostages using nothing more than three ten-inch copper wires, a fan blade and an issue of Racer Weekly: The Blurr Edition."

"The ... one with the full page spread," Megatron ventured hesitantly.

Both mechs turned slightly red and Ultra Magnus gave a wheezing sound from beside Skids. Nobody talked about the full page spread. Ever. It was taboo.

Oh Primus, was this it, Skids wondered in horror.

The mechs beside him all tensed.

"That's the one," Getaway said sheepishly.

Everyone ex-vented in relief.

Megatron continued on, seemingly unaware of the audience he had. "Yes well, the less said of that the better. I brought up the subject because I'm teaching a class in off-battle survival strategy, if you would consent to share your knowledge with the class I would be glad to have you."

Everyone in the hall tensed up again. Getaways hand was twitching, his optics glazing, his entire being driving him to do it.

"Of course! Always happy to share what I know."

The tension mounted as Getaway shuffled a little closer to the immense frame of the ex-warlord who seemed to be unaware of the rising anticipation.

"Excellent, we will be meeting -"

"Bomp."

Every single mech in the hall gasped, drawing back in horror at what was sure to be the brutal slaughter of their friend (or acquaintance, or shipmate, or just that guy they knew who liked to do that weird bomp thing - Getaway didn't make many friends what with him being kind of a patronizing jerk and all).

Megatron calmly looked down at the finger currently in contact with the tip of his nose.

Then he looked at the mech to whom the finger belonged.

The mech who then ever so slowly removed his finger and brought it down to hang by his side, all the while never breaking eye contact.

Megatron continued to stare until Getaways began to whimper, at which point Megatron carried on, eye contact maintained throughout.

"We will be meeting at 1700 tomorrow. Don't be late."

Then and only then did Megatron break eye contact, turned smartly on his heel and walked out.

There was a moment where it looked like Getaway might just cry but then the mech did the unexpected.

Getaway turned to his gaping audience and gave them the most enthusiastic thumbs up any mech had ever seen. It was a sight to behold.

On that day, truly, Getaway had earned the admiration (or whatever) of all his shipmates.

A legend was born that day.

Or not. Depends on who you talk to.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This had got to be a record for me. Two chapters in two days. Who even heard of such a thing?  
> *stage whisper* It's because the chapters are so short

Megatron walked the halls of the Lost Light, alone and in a pensive state when he heard the faint sound of singing. Curious, he walked towards the noise, feet moving ever more urgently as the sound became ever clearer. A powerful melody sung in the language of ancient Cybertron, the distinctive Tetrahexian accent of the singer giving the song a vibrant edge. If he wasn't mistaken the song was a religious hymn of some sort, the sombre words given life by the sheer forceful joy of the mech singing it.

It was, in a word, beautiful.

He stopped at the doorway where the song was coming from and peered in.

Cyclonus was alone in the room, looking out into the starry curtain of space.

Megatron found the warrior entrancing in a way he had rarely felt before. It was one thing to respect a warrior in battle but it was another to see a different facet of said warrior off the battlefield, engaged in something as mundane as singing to himself.

This emotion he was feeling was something like kinship. An emotion he had only ever felt in response to his Decepticons and Optimus Prime.

When the song ended Cyclonus gave a contemplative hum of contentment and lapsed into silence.

"I never thought to find a follower of the Guiding Hand on this ship."

Cyclonus didn't startle, it seemed Megatron would have to try harder to sneak up on the mech in the future. The horned mech didn't even glance in Megatrons direction when he spoke, choosing to meet his optics through the reflections in the window.

"I was raised in a time when the Guiding Hand was a strong religion." He explained. "It seems I am a relic in that regard. Most either follow vague spiritualist ideals or no ideals at all. What a strange time to be alive."

It was a surprise that the other mech was willing to engage him in conversation. Megatron found himself eager for the simple pleasure of talking to another mech. Even he had his limits when it came to social isolation. "Heh, I'm afraid I fall into the latter category. I've found little use for deities in my lifetime."

Cyclonus turned to face his guest, an unreadable expression on his face. "You've faced many hardships. I understand this. Still, has facing your hardships alone been to your benefit or has every wound you've suffered made your spark hard and unfeeling?" Megatron gave no answer. Cyclonus wasn't expecting one. "I've found even at my lowest I could turn to the Guiding Hand for wisdom. It may seem like a quaint idea to you young 'bots but the idea holds some merit, even in these modern times."

Megatron bowed his head in acknowledgement.

Cyclonus returned the gesture.

They both turned to stare at the stars for a long while until Megatron once again broke the silence.

"I would be honoured if you would teach me a song."

The older mech smiled.

 

*

 

"The frag is that sound," Ratchet muttered to himself, marching down the hallway to investigate. "Sounds like two Ardurian Rocs fighting over a turbofox."

Rounding the corner he was greeted by the sight of loiterers, several of them. Nobody was making a move which was either a good sign or a sign two mechs were fighting to the death and Swerve was taking bets. He stood by Nautica and craned his neck cables to see over the crowd.

To his astonishment the sound was coming from the two most feared mechs on board, mechs who appeared to be engaged in some sort of a ... duet? Or a melodic argument? Harmonized battle? It was hard to say.

The only thing he was sure of was the expressions on their faces. Expressions that hardly seemed real on the faces of two battle hardened, formerly-evil-currently-reformed warriors.

They were smiling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter wasn't very funny but I had to do it. Megatron and Cyclonus must be bros. I'm hoping for canon confirmation.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Longest chapter yet!

"In short, what we're seeing is some sort of a deep space creature that is all but invisible to the naked eye, my conclusion is this creature is made of pure darkness. This explains the lack of visible stars," Nightbeat concluded.

"Yeah, that part I get. But that doesn't explain the, uh, well, this." Rodimus looked at Ratchet who gave him a dopey smile and patted his face murmuring 's'all good man'.

Nightbeat placed a hand on his chin. "Hmm, well, there are still things science doesn't understand. As far as I can tell 90% of the crew is now in a state of er, what exactly are we calling this?"

"Tantric bliss," Brainstorm suggested.

Rodimus sighed. "Sounds like something Drift would say."

"Technicalities aside," Megatron said impatiently. "How do we defeat this creature?"

Nightbeat shrugged. "Big gun?" Brainstorm glared at the detective. "What," the detective yelped at the evil eye being sent his way.

"That's kind of my thing." Brainstorm said. "Your thing is mysteries. My thing is big guns. You wouldn't like me solving your mysteries would you? Butting into your thing like I know what I'm talking about. Which I don't," he said pointedly.

"Brainstorm, unless you have something useful to add keep your mouth shut," Megatron ground out, rapidly losing patience with the remaining crew.

"Ah ha! That's the thing, I do have something useful to add. I'm the gun guy, after all and we just so happen to have the biggest gun right here."

"Then. Go. Get. It," snarled the Captain.

Everyone stared at him and Megatron knew he had just missed some important detail.

"He's talking about you," Rodimus said, his condescending smirk making Megatron want to kill something. "Calm the rage. Stress of co-captaining getting to you or what?"

"There is no co-captain! I am the only captain and I am this close to jettisoning you out the nearest airlock. To this Pit with you all." Megatron rubbed the bridge of his nose and vented heavily. "So we have our weapon. What we need now is an exit. This creature has all major exits blocked but seems to be unable to cut off vents and such. Is there a route we can take through the ventilation system to get outside?"

Nightbeat shrugged.

Brainstorm shrugged.

Ratchet stared off into space.

Rodimus smirked.

Megatron sighed. "Rodimus, do you have something to say?"

"As a matter of fact I do. Being captain of this ship for some time before certain people came along and butted in on my territory-"

"Know that feeling," Brainstorm muttered.

"-I've familiarized myself with the layout of the ventilation system."

"Do I even want to know why you were skulking around in the ventilation system?"

Rodimus' smirk widened into a grin. "Probably not. Anyways, you want the ventilation shaft in hallway 6-B. There's a catch though. It's small. I couldn't fit in and neither will any of you guys. We'll need someone small."

"Tailgate," Brainstorm suggested.

Megatron shook his helm, looking down at the list of all affected crew members. "He's been infected."

"Swerve?"

"Infected."

"Rewind?"

"Infected."

"Well that's everyone," Brainstorm concluded.

"Hmm, I feel like we're missing somebody," Nightbeat murmured.

Everyone was silent, thinking. There had to be someone. Someone small, tiny, narrow, capable of sneaking through small spaces, someone easily overlooked.

Of course!

"RUNG!" Everyone exclaimed at once.

 

*

 

"You want me to what," Rung squeaked.

"Carry me through the ventilation shaft and fire me at the mass surrounding the ship." Rungs eyebrows were arched so high Megatron had a feeling they would fly off the poor bots face if he received any more shocking news.

"I-I don't think I'm qualified for this."

And looking at him, Megatron had to agree. The little psychiatrist wasn't even half the size of Megatron himself with a frame grossly unsuited for battle and limbs so thin the former warlord could have snapped them in half with a twitch of his finger. He wasn't even sure Rung would be able to wield his gun form.

But as a former commander of an army Megatron knew that wasn't what Rung needed to hear.

In an act of uncharacteristic humility Megatron got down on one knee and put his hands on the other 'bots shoulders.

"The ship needs you. You're the only one aboard capable of saving us. You do not have the luxury of choice in this matter, there is simply the task at hand and the will to carry it out. Do you have the will, Rung?"

Megatron watched the changing expressions cross the 'bots face. Shock, when Megatron got down on his knee, bewilderment, resignation, and then determination. The little 'bot squared his shoulders, puffed out his chest and gave a sharp nod.

"For the ship."

"For the ship," Megatron agreed.

He stood and transformed, now used to the unsettling sensation of mass displacement and the jolt as he fell to the ground.

Rung vented deeply and picked Megatron up. The gun was heavy in his hands and clearly meant to be wielded by a bigger mech than himself. He felt silly holding Megatron like this.

"You alright," Rodimus asked gently.

Rung nodded, staring at the gun in his hand. "I just ... point and shoot?"

"That's it. Easier than listening to Red Alert talk all day."

He chuckled weakly. "Well, when you put it like that. I guess I'm ready."

"Come on, I'll give you a boost. And Rung." The psychiatrist looked into Rodimus' optics. "If anything happens don't try to be a hero, ok. You just run."

"Ok."

Rodimus lowered himself and cupped his hands together, boosting Rung up into the vents.

And then Rung was alone.

Well, almost alone.

He shuffled through the narrow vent, keeping Megatron ahead of him, gripped tightly in his hand.

"M-megatron?"

"Yes?"

Rung startled. "Oh, just checking."

A deep chuckle echoed through the vents, sending a chill down Rungs back strut.

"I'll be at your side. If you cannot believe in your own abilities you can at least believe in mine. I have fought and won countless battles in the past against foes stronger than this."

Megatron continued to speak as Rung shuffled slowly to their destination, filling the empty air with the sound of his voice recounting past battles, all victories against impossible odds. It should have been terrifying, being trapped in a confined space with the very mech who had been a figure of so much fear, but instead it was comforting. Megatron was many things but a weakling was not one of them, no mech could ever dispute his battle prowess.

He gave Rung courage. And courage was in short supply when he reached the outer hull of the ship.

A great heave threw open the hatch into space and he needed every ounce of courage he could muster to step outside into the black emptiness.

"Steady. Observe your surroundings. Find your target," Megatron guided through his internal comm system.

Rung activated the magnetic strips attached to the bottom of his feet and grounded himself on the ship. Everything outside was black, no stars in the sky, no planets or galaxies to be seen. Just the void. He did as Megatron instructed and searched for his target but could see nothing.

"Go for higher ground."

Rung nodded, clutching the gun to his chest as he slowly scaled the side of the ship, optics darting back and forth, searching for any hint of danger.

Danger found him at the top of the ship. At the highest point he looked up, and the blackness looked back.

Rung screamed silently, voice carried away into space as a great eye opened up above him.

"Rung!" Megatron bellowed. "Fire at the eye."

Rung didn't stop to think, raising the gun in both hands, shifting a foot back to brace himself as he leaned back. Gun held high above his head.

Fire!

A concussive blast of purple energy flew from Megatrons alt mode and it took everything Rung hand in him to keep hold as the energy tore through the blackness, tearing through it as easily as if it were tissue paper. The blackness broke apart into thousands of small balls of black light. And then, from in the middle of the great eye a figure burst forth, flying from the epicentre of the blast, completely untouched and heading straight for Rung.

But he wasn't afraid.

He knew that figure.

The white paint glittered like a star against the black of space. Three swords hung from his hips and back. Blue optics glittering with joy.

Rung held his arms open to catch the mech and was crushed in a hug by the much bigger bot.

Drift had come home.

 

*

 

"So let me get this straight," Rodimus said, voice pitched high with disbelief. "You were abducted by space balls?"

"Semi-sentient space wishes," Drift corrected. "They feed off good karmic energy and were attracted to me. Turns out they grant wishes and feed off the resulting positive energies. I wanted to go back to Cybertron but I was just thinking 'I want to go home' and they took me back here. I guess the, er, tantric bliss was a side effect of them surrounding the ship and giving off their vibes. Now that I think about it I was getting some good vibes from them too but I'm more in touch with my positive and negative energies so I guess I didn't feel it as strongly. So, yeah, that's the story."

"That is without a doubt the dumbest thing I have ever heard," Ratchet yelled. "Semi -sentient space wishes? Have you gone completely out of your processor? Get to the medbay, I need to scan you. _Now_!"

Drift jumped and ran off.

Rodimus grinned widely and clapped Ratchet on the shoulder. "I can tell you're happy to have him back."

"Don't be ridiculous," Ratchet snarled before storming off.

"Oh, he is so happy."

Everyone spectating started to disperse, talking loudly. No doubt they'd be gossiping about this for months to come.

Megatron scanned the crowd for one 'bot, spotting him leaning against the wall on the far side of the room, apparently invisible to everyone around him. When the room was clear Megatron walked over.

Rung greeted him softly.

"Is this a regular occurrence?"

"What, people forgetting I exist? Yeah. Kinda."

"Then you possess a more powerful weapon than you know. You're at least as old as I am, if not older, am I right?" Rung nodded in confirmation. "You survived the war without so much as learning how to properly wield a gun. I am, quite honestly, amazed. I've stayed alive these many years by forging myself into a peerless warrior, winning countless battles across millions of years. You have achieved the same simply by being small and unobtrusive."

Rung shuffled his feet. "Not sure if that's a compliment or an insult to be honest."

"Rung, I have known many mechs who have accomplished far less than you did today and demanded praise and accolades for those deeds."

"Starscream?"

"Among others. And yet here you stand. Hero. Saviour of the Lost Light. And you stand silent. I'm doing more than complimenting you, Rung, I'm saying I respect you. "

Rung looked up for the first time since their conversation began, a look of disbelief on his face. Something in Megatron expression must have convinced him of his sincerity because a tiny smile lifted his lips. "Thank you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some Rung/Megatron feels. Can I just say I love Rung, everything about him is amazing adorableness. His alt mode is totally useless and nobody remembers him but he's still kind of a badass. Also that scene with him being Megatrons therapist was everything I never knew I wanted in my life.  
> ALSO DRIFT! I magically resurrected Rewind but had to give Drift a comeback scene. Maybe because I can find literally no way to make Rewinds resurrection not totally depressing. Ah well. Hope y'all enjoyed.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bet you though semi-sentient space wishes was as dumb as I got. Well, you might be right but this is definitely close second.

It started as a low rumble in the ground, a familiar series of notes that had him unconsciously bobbing his helm in time to the beat.

It was only upon realizing the sound was coming from the ship itself and not the haunted recesses of his traumatized processor that Megatron stopped bobbing his helm and listened.

Primus no.

That song! It had followed him.

Megatron dropped his data pad.

_No_!

He was off at a run. He knew exactly where that accursed song was coming from. The only place it could be.

Swerve's.

As the song grew louder it was all he could do to keep despair at bay as flashbacks assaulted him. Skywarp singing. The Constructicons dancing. Soundwave slowly going out of his processor as every second global communication feed relayed that song back to him.

He wouldn't let it happen again.

He couldn't!

It was only upon reaching the bar that he realized it was already too late. The crew had fallen victim to this audibly transmitted human virus.

"Megatron," Ratchet said (actually yelled over the music). "I didn't think you'd come."

He looked around in dismay. Even Ratchet was tapping his foot. He steeled himself, refusing to give into the urge to bob his helm in time to the beat. The damn beat that haunted his time on Earth. Every network in every country, he couldn't escape the sheer pervasiveness of the song. At a point it had seemed as if the globe simply decided as one to continually hit the repeat button on this thrice cursed song.

"Come to what?"

"The talent competition. Didn't you get the memo?" he had gotten the memo, and had promptly ignored it. Clearly a gross lapse in judgement if the dancing was any indication. Drift, Rodimus and Chromedome were on stage, dancing to the thunderous applause of the audience. Whirl yelled out something highly inappropriate. It was madness.

"Kind of catchy," Ratchet yelled conversationally. "Drift got it from his time on Earth. Humans weren't good for much but they sure knew music."

He didn't respond. He was too busy wondering how the mechs on stage were getting their pelvic joints to twist like that. It wasn't natural. It wasn't ... wasn't ... - he couldn't help but be impressed by the way Drift moved. And Rodimus' enthusiasm. And how you could clearly see Chromedome was singing along even through his mask.

It started in increments.

His foot twitched. A low hum under his breath. His finger tapped in time to the beat.

As the song reached its final climax the thrill of the crowd, the inventive dance moves, the sheer insanity surrounding him .. he blamed it all for what he sang under his breath as the song reached its conclusion.

"Oppa Gangnam Style."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm just gonna twist canon to suit my purposes and say the 'bots were all on Earth during the heyday of Gangnam Style. They might have been, I'm a bit foggy on exactly when the whole on-earth arc was taking place. But if they were then Soundwave listening to Gangnam Style is canon because there is no way you could do Soundwaves job and NOT have heard that song. It was eeeeverywhere.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is it a bad sign that every chapter I post I feel like I should apologize for it? This chapter is no exception. The madness continues.

"Now because I know half of you weren't listening - Swerve! Stop talking! - Primus, I swear on my life I will turn this ship around and drive it into the nearest sun if you do not stop talking." Megatron grit his dentas, venting slowly as Rung had taught him.

  
"I think he's gonna snap," Whirl whispered loudly.

  
Megatron did not snap. Megatron cooled his rage and was a better person for it.

  
"Pfft, lame," Whirl muttered.

  
Megatron snapped.

*

"As I was saying, we've gained new intelligence on the location of Thunderclash which just so happens to be on an organic planet suitable for a brief shore leave period. I believe you have been here before, Hedonia. In the interest if saving time we will combine the two activities. All non-essential crew members, should you choose to do so, will be allowed to leave the ship and engage in recreational activities while I will meet with this informant." Megatron then took the time to put on his best stern face and point Whirls arm at each and every crew member in attendance. "If any of you cause anything even resembling a disruption so help me I will lose what little of my patience I have left. Am I understood?"

  
The crew wisely nodded.

  
"Good, now somebody take this arm and the rest of Whirl to First Aid."

*

The shore leave crew rallied around Megatron in the transport ship, eyeing him up with open shock. Megatron steadfastly ignored them, crossing his avatars arms over it's rather ... ample chest.

  
He had been told these new holomatter avaters appeared to suit a mechs personality. Somehow he doubted that.

  
"Sooooo," Rodimus said, looking Megatron up and down. "Soccer mom."

  
He quirked an eyebrow. "Soccer mom?"

  
"Your avatar. You're a soccer mom."

  
"Rodimus, sit down."

  
The bleach blond, overly tanned young man that represented Rodimus sat with a huff, pushing a pair of sunglasses down over his eyes.

  
Megatron looked around at the crew, taking in their various avatars. It was amusing to see the human representations of his crew, until he realized that those ridiculous avatars represented some of the best his crew had to offer and then amusement changed quickly to despair.

  
They were going to die before they found the Knights of Cybertron.

  
The crew was insane. His self proclaimed co-captain an utter incompetent. He was all but neutered by the Autobots.

  
He had a fleeting thought that if he found Thunderclash maybe he could beg his way onto a ship that wasn't headed for a spectacular crash and burn. How the mighty had fallen.

  
The ship landed while Megatron was wallowing, a disturbing hobby he had taken up recently.

  
"Remember what I told you all," he warned before heading off, "if I hear any disturbance don't bother coming back."

  
The crew all gave hasty goodbyes and headed off. All but Rodimus.

  
"No."

  
"I'm co-captain. You can't tell me no." Primus his voice was grating.

  
"I can and I did. I won't have this opportunity squandered because of your ineptitude."

  
"Oh MY ineptitude. I'm not the one who lost, Megs. You had your chance and you blew it now you're trying to take my chance away from me because you ain't got nothing else."

  
He had just about had enough of this little upstart. Megatron grabbed Rodimus by his shirt collar and pulled him down. "I will not be spoken to in that tone, boy. Make no mistake, despite all appearances I am not diminished. Or have you forgotten how time and again your forces fell by my hand? Have you forgotten the terror I inspired in you, how you trembled at my name, at the mere thought of my return?"

  
"No, I haven't. That's the point. Everyone else seems to have forgotten but I won't. I don't care what Optimus says, this is my ship, not yours."

  
He threw the young mech away. "Put away your pride, Rodimus."

  
Rodimus stumbled but pulled himself together, standing tall before his enemy. "It's not pride."

  
"Then what is it?"

  
"I'm trying to protect my crew. They put their trust in me, they trusted me to keep them safe and lead them to the Knights of Cybertron. To a better future. Me. Not you. How can I do that when my co-captain is the enemy who was trying to take that future away? Who was trying to kill us all just a few months ago," Rodimus snarled, emotion colouring his voice. "I maybe be the only one who sees you for what you really are but I don't care. Even if nobody else believes me I won't let you trick me and when you show your true colours I'll be there, Megatron. So get used to it."

  
Maybe for the first time Megatron saw Rodimus, really saw him. Not the brash, hot headed youth but the real Rodimus. A flawed mech, but brave and true, maybe not the most clever of 'bots but good, good in the very core of his spark. A mech who wanted so badly to be a hero. To be needed. It was as impressive as it was sad.

  
"Rodimus," he began softly, wanting to say much but not knowing the words to use. So he simply sighed and gestured for the other mech to follow. "Come on, we'll be late."

*

The crew was, astonishingly, behaving themselves. There hadn't been a single disturbance of the peace or bar fight or even minor infraction of intergalactic law.

  
Ultra Magnus was pleased. No. He was, dare he say it, happy.

  
This was what a shore leave was meant to be. A chance to unwind and strengthen the bonds of friendship and camaraderie with a liberal application of engex to smooth the way.

  
It was perfect.

  
Until Rodimus ran full speed into the bar, grabbing mechs as he passed shouting, "Gotta go, gotta go, gotta go!"

  
"Rodimus, is there a problem," Magnus asked, a sense of concern growing. Rodimus was last seen with Megatron. That didn't bode well.

  
"Problem? No, no problem but just for the heck of it we should probably start running."

  
Some mechs didn't need to be told twice. Magnus on the other hand was a mech who needed answers. "Where is Megatron?"

  
It was at that very moment that Megatron burst through the doors at a sprint, bellowing out "Retreat!" as he passed and Ultra Magnus had a moment to assess the situation before it all went to hell.  
Rodimus appeared to be holding a stack of papers in one hand and was no long in possession of either his sunglasses or his shirt. Curious. Megatrons expression was a confusing mix of determination, panic, and glee, an expression that was entirely explained when Magnus saw an object clutched tightly to his chest like he was protecting a newly forged sparkling.

  
A fusion cannon.

  
Ultra Magnus was no Prowl, who could observe 800 moving objects and calculate their trajectory in .05 seconds, but what he could do was spot trouble, and this was trouble.

  
He began running just as the doors burst open to reveal organics of obvious ill repute wielding automatic weapons, and then shooting began. The bar patrons, every last one of them being apparently armed to the teeth (Hediona being a weapons dealing planet, it was no shocker), began returning fire.

  
Thankfully most of the mechs present decided to forego a dramatic escape and simply turned off their avatars, all except Rodimus and Megatron who eventually caught up to the transport ship looking slightly singed.

  
The two deactivated their avatars and sat back with identical sighs as the ship took off.

  
Nobody spoke as Rodimus picked up the papers and began sifting through them. And nobody spoke when Megatron picked up the fusion cannon, inspecting it thoroughly before attaching it to his arm.  
Eventually Rodimus looked up from his papers and announced loudly. "Nobody can ever call me irresponsible again because that back there was some of the most irresponsible slag I have ever seen in my life and we're lucky we're not all dead."

  
Everyone looked from Rodimus to Megatron who simply shrugged. "They were clearly trying to overcharge me. I know the price of fusion cannons."

  
"So you stole it," Rodimus shrieked.

  
"I created a necessary distraction. They weren't taking us seriously. Not that I blame them with those ridiculous holomatter avatars. Really, you should be thanking me. Neither of us has the patience for drawn out swindling masquerading as negotiations."

  
Rodimus looked to be at a loss for words. "But you just ... I can't believe you ... you seduced that organic."

  
The crew gasped in horror.

  
"And that thing you did with the tongue and the - oh frag, I'm gonna purge."

  
Megatron smirked and leaned back, his new fusion cannon gleaming like a jewel.

  
"Worth it."  
*

The crew never did get the full story of what happened but since that day Rodimus and Megatron were on almost friendly (if somewhat awkward) terms and Megatron had begun to refer to the other as 'co-captain'.

  
The location of Thunderclash was revealed and a course set.

  
Megatrons fusion cannon worked like a dream.

  
And Whirl made a full recovery.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I had some really weird formatting issues with this chapter, Word decided it hated me. So I apologize if this chapter looks strange.  
> Aaaaaand MEGATRON GOT HIS FUSION CANNON BACK. Literally this entire chapter was made for that reason. I noticed in the comics he didn't have it on the Lost Light and sort of assumed it got confiscated or lost or destroyed or something. Pft. Not in my fic, baby!


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *gasp* I got reviews. Three of them! HAPPY DAY! *Stares at reviews* *sweats profusely*
> 
> Those of you following this fic may notice I've added a new tag. Guess who shows up in this chapter!

It was a strange moment for the crew when the Decepticon Justice Division showed up.

Mostly because nobody knew what to expect.

Fear was the overall theme of the day, ranging from outright terror to extreme wariness.

Naturally, Megatron was first consulted when the Peaceful Tyranny first showed up on scanners, and naturally, he was met with fear, suspicion and hostility as everyone assumed this was his plan from the beginning. It was just Megatrons bad luck that he was just as clueless as they were. He hadn't been in contact with his Justice Division since before his trial and their presence in that part of space was a mystery to him.

Not one to pass on an opportunity, Megatron invited them aboard.

This decision was met with severe resistance and, in one case, a fainting spell. Said fainter declined to be named but he's short and talks a lot so you're free to draw your own conclusions on his identity.

And that leads us here...

 

*

 

"We're all going to die," Ratchet stated matter-of-factly. "You know that right?"

"We are not going to die. My Justice Division are among the most loyal of my soldiers," Megatron assured him. "They would never kill me without giving me proper notification beforehand."

Ratchet looked at him. Megatron looked back.

"That was a joke."

"Was it," Ratchet asked dubiously.

Megatron looked back towards the landing bay doors. "...No."

"We're all fragged. Why am I even here?"

Megatron snorted out a laugh. "Because my so-called co-captain is in charge of evacuation protocol, my Security Director is on monitor duty , my SiC is keeping law and order among the crew and my Third was exiled before I even stepped foot on this ship."

"So I win by default? Lucky me."

"Lucky you," Megatron agreed placidly.

"That was a joke."

Megatron smirked. "Was it?"

"Frag. You."

"Is that any way to speak you your Captain?"

"No," purred a familiar voice. "It is not."

Tarn appeared at the landing bay doors with the rest of the DJD trailing a step behind.

Beside him, Ratchet gasped. Autobots rarely laid optics on the DJD and their appearance could be rather unsettling, even to those who knew them. The size of the larger members alone was intimidating but it was their additional modifications that made them the subject of many a stray Decepticons nightmares.

He got a sort of sick pleasure at Ratchets horrified expression. It was nice to once in a while remind the crew that, while he had been demoted from warlord to a mere captain of a clunky ship crewed by the most inept bad of misfits in existence, he was still a mech to be feared. Sometimes. He needed something to balance out his newfound ... ordinariness.

Back to the present, Megatron eyed his Justice Division calmly, though internally he was ready to fight.

His fears were laid to rest when Tarn swept up and gave him an incredibly flamboyant bow.

"My Lord, I came as soon as I heard the news. We all did."

"Indeed. My most loyal of soldiers."

Tarn shuddered in pleasure while the rest sort of ... fluttered around. Ratchet coughed. Megatron resisted the urge to groan.

"Always, my Lord. And as your humble servants I am pleased to announce, with our arrival here, the completion of our most important mission to date."

Megatron felt a thrill of excitement. "You killed Galvatron," he asked, unable to keep the excitement from his voice.

"Galva--er, no, my Lord. A greater mission. One of great poetic importance to the cause." The rest of the DJD nodded in agreement.

"Tarn," Megatron began slowly. A sneaking suspicion creeping into his processors. "Kaon. Vos. Helix. Tesarus. Please tell me you haven't been gallivanting around in space all this time on another " - and here Megatron heaved a long suffering sigh - "recreational mission."

"Of course not, my Lord."

"Oh, thank Primus."

"We were hunting our quarry when we happened upon this tragic tale. So you see, fate intervened. I ask you, my Lord, how could we ignore the sirens song of lovers split asunder through the vast, cruel expanse of space? When the opportunity presents itself the Decepticon Justice Division must take action. On this day we have spilt energon-"

"Lots of energon," Helix piped up.

"Indeed, the floors were covered in it."

"It got on my coils," Kaon murmured sadly.

Vos said something.

Tesarus patted the little mech on the head.

"The energon was copious in amount. As it should be." Tarn agreed. "With our mission completed we immediately embarked on our secondary mission of which we shall now witness its completion. Helix, release our charge."

The giant mech opened the vast cavern of his smelting pool. Nothing happened. Megatron curiously moved towards the smelting pool and peeked inside. At first he could see nothing but then a tiny bit of movement in the corner of the pool caught his optic. There was a little mech inside Helix.

"Helix," Megatron said in what he hoped was a reasonably calm voice. "Why is there a mech inside of you?"

"We thought it would calm him down."

"He kept trying to escape," Kaon chimed in.

Vos said something.

"Help me," the mech inside Helix whimpered.

Tarn reached inside Helix and plucked the tiny mech out - Ratchet gasped - and pulled his captive into a tight embrace. "And so we shall, my pet," he crooned gently, stroking the quivering 'bots helm. "Where can I find the mech designated Chromedome?"

"A-already done," Racthet said, staring at the small mech with enormous optics. "I comm'd him."

"Do you know this mech," Megatron asked.

But before Ratchet could answer Chromedome burst through the doors with a shout of, "Rewind!"

"Chromedome," the little mech (Rewind) yelled, struggling in Tarns grip. The tank released Rewind and all present watched as the small mech sprinted straight into the arms of his partner who collapsed to his knees, hugging Rewind tightly to him and openly sobbing.

Megatron and Ratchet looked away politely.

The DJD stared.

Tarn sighed wistfully and the notes of a powerful love ballad swelled to fill the room, undoubtedly to add that last poetic touch.

 

*

 

"Ah, I almost forgot. Before we leave. Overlord is on board the Peaceful Tyranny. Is there anything you would like to say to him before we extinguish his spark," Tarn asked.

Megatron thought for a moment. "Overlord who?"

Tarn appeared to smile from behind his mask. "Very good, my Lord."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh man, can I just say writing the DJD is hard. Like, whoa. Now hear me out because I might be onto something. Rewinds last known location was with Overlord (presumably dead but looking not so dead as of the latest issue). The DJD's last known location was going after Overlord. Sooo, headcanon tells me Rewind and the DJD have a probable, if not very likely, chance of meeting up. Cool huh? Me connecting all these dots like I think I'm Nightbeat or something. *puts on sunglasses* Yeeeeeeeeah. 
> 
> Also Overlord, dear Overlord. Megatron just ain't into you.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ERMAGERD I LOVE YOU GUYS! Your reviews and kudo's make me happy!  
> This chapter was super fun to write.

"So this is how it ends? Stuck in a dirty cell with you three? If someone had told me even six months ago this was going to be my life I would have laughed. Because this can't be my life. I can't be stuck in a cell with an unconscious Special Ops agent, an amnesiac theoretician and Megatron. Because that makes no sense. Are you all getting me? This makes no sense. None. Zero," Swerve moaned pitifully.

"I think he's losing it," Skids observed calmly.

"Perhaps it would be merciful to put him out of his misery," Cyclonus shouted from another cell.

"Seconded." Brainstorm.

"Third." Ravage.

"That's not very nice," Tailgate chastised. "He's just worried. We all are."

"Well some of us know how to keep it to ourselves," Sunstreaker muttered. Bob chirred helpfully in response.

"I need a drink," Trailcutter lamented.

"Somebody wake up Getaway," Rodimus said.

"And get him three ten-inch copper wires, a fan blade and an issue of Racer Weekly: The Blurr Edition," Bluestreak shouted.

There was a pause.

"...The one with the full page spr-"

" _Enough_ ," Megatron shouted. "If anyone ever brings that full page spread up in my presence again they will be made an example of. Am I understood?"

A chorus of 'yes sirs' followed. Though a few mechs snickered softly. Others just tried to forget. But they couldn't because the image of that issue was seared into their processors and would never ever be entirely forgotten.

"Our escape artist is out cold. Does anyone else have any skills useful for escaping a prison cell," Megatron asked. He waited. Then he felt the crushing weight of defeat when he remembered just who he was addressing. Useful skills was a foreign concept to this lot. "Your deafening silence is certainly encouraging. I'm quite sure if we all continue to do and say nothing our rescue is assured. "

A beat of silence.

"Was he always this sarcastic?"

"Who said that," Megatron snarled.

Nobody spoke.

Except for Swerve.

"Do you guys hear that?"

"Swerve, if there was one person I wished dearly would adopt the idea of 'deafening silence' it is you."

"See," someone hissed, "he totally wasn't this sarcastic before."

"Hey, I hear it to," Rodimus said.

Everyone went silent.

There was a distant sound of explosions. Gun fire. Screaming. A mad cackling laugh that was oddly familiar.

"Is that-"

"No way-"

"You have got to be joking-"

Whirl kicked the door open and stepped inside wielding what looked like half the Lost Lights armoury strapped to his chest. A gun held in one claw, a bloodied sword in another and a multitude of grenades hanging from his arms. The hallway behind him blazed with fire and the inhabitants of the prison vessel ran away screaming, some of them actually on fire.

He stepped into the room as if in slow motion, a figure of awe and envy.

And as much as Megatron hated Whirl, for a brief second he felt something like respect for the other mech.

"Pft, look at you losers. Couldn't even escape a prison cell without my help. Typical."

And then Whirl opened his mouth (figuratively speaking) and the respect evaporated as cleanly as if it had never been there at all.

 

*

 

"So you saw the ship being taken over and you-"

"Escaped in the Rodpod, yeah. Good plan right?"

Good plan wasn't the words Megatron would use. "And, during this plan, was rescuing your shipmates a motivating factor in your escape?"

Whirls eye narrowed slightly. "Would you believe me if I said yes?"

"No."

"Then no.

"Naturally. And when did your decision to stage a rescue attempt occur?"

"About the second I realized I didn't have enough fuel to make it to Cybertron."

Megatrons optic twitched. "Right. And how did you manage to acquire such a vast array of weaponry for your rescue effort when our ship was taken over?"

Whirl laughed. "Oh I've been storing caches of weapons for months. All around the ship. Just in case, you know. Nothing like the former leader of the Decepticons coming on board as Captain to make a mech paranoid."

"Of course. And was mutiny ever a factor in your decision to start hoarding weapons supplies?"

"...No."

"Whirl."

"Maybe."

"...Whirl."

"Fine, yes. Jeez, when did you get to be such an ass- ARGH!"

 

*

 

When Whirl was released from the medbay he received a full commendation with a medal and a ceremony and everything.

There was no living with him after that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys might get the impression that I don't like Whirl. You would be wrong. I f-ing LOVE this character. He's such an unrepentant douche he's come full circle from 'this guys kind of cool' to 'I hate this guy' all the way back to 'ok, he's kinda of awesome'. And he's got a tragic backstory. Who doesn't love a tragic backstory?


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoooooa it's been so long since my last update. But good news, the new issue is out. I've been scared to read it though because it looks like bad things are going to happen. Anyways, here's another long overdue chapter!

An ex-Decepticon warlord turned Autobot spaceship Captain walks into a bar.

Swerve knows there's a joke but he can't think of one. He's too busy panicking. 

"Megs, ole buddy, how's it hanging?" Megatron paused mid-step, did a double take on Swerve, visibly replayed the sentence he had just heard over again in his processor and ... sat down at the bar. Well ooookay then. "Drink?"

"Yes."

Swerve waited. Megatron just stared at the counter.

"So, uh, any particular kind?"

"Doesn't matter, I can't get over energized. Whatever tastes good."

"Riiiight."

Megatron was so. Damn. Creepy. 

Swerve hurried off to get his drink and to figure out what Megatron meant by 'tastes good' because there was a whole world of debate about this taste and that, the merit of adding certain heavy metals versus acids to get various flavors and the quantity of engex vs additives to enhance flavor. Some mechs liked it straight, others liked it watered down.

He wanted to ask but he was scared. So he just added a bit of this and a bit of that. And since Megatron was looking a bit depressed he put the whole thing in a fun cup shaped like Rodimus' head (a special commission for the launch party. Someone even added a nifty function where, if you pressed a button on the side it would give you one of fifty different moments of Rodimus saying 'til all are one'. It was still a mystery who did that. Swerve suspected it was Rodimus. It just seemed like such a him thing to do. Anyways ...) and added a decorative umbrella for flair.

He set the cup down in front of Megatron who took one look at the cup, sighed, took out the umbrella and pounded back the drink on one gulp. He then slammed the cup down and stared accusingly at the empty bottom of the cup.

He held the cup out for Swerve without looking up.

"Another."

"Uh. I don't really think-"

"Another." He jiggled the cup.

As the night wore on Megatron downed so many cups it went from being sad to being impressive all the way back to being sad again.

But how could a mech not look sad surrounded by empty Roddy cups? It was sort of pathetic.

Especially when every time Whirl passed he made a point to press a button and seemed to take great joy in Megatrons grimace every time he heard ''til all are one' come from the grinning cups.

It wasn't until Trailcutter entered the picture that things got weird.

He snuck up behind the Captain.

Swerve saw him do it to. He saw the look in his optics and knew it was trouble. But then he saw Megatron moping in among Roddy cups and knew whatever Trailcutter did it was probably not going to be as bad as watching Megatron sulk.

So he looked away and only heard the loud thunk followed by Trailcutters maniacal laughter as he ran away.

When Swerve turned around it was to the sight of a Megatron that was three sheets to the wind. Or, in simpler terms: drunk.

"The ship," Megatron mumbled holding tight to the bar counter as he listed to the side. "Someones tilting the ship."

"Megatron, you're drunk."

The big mech gasped. "I am no such thing." As he slowly lost the battle with gravity and took up the undignified position of clinging to the counter with his chin firmly planted as though to anchor him. "Hmm, my original assessment of the situation may have been made in error."

"How is it you even sound like a politician when drunk?"

"I am not drunk."

"But you just admitted you were."

Megatron glared. With way more hostility than he needed to in Swerves opinion. 

"Fine, whatever."

"Swerve."

"Yeah?"

"Don't let Whirl anywhere near me if I offline."

He laughed. "You would be shocked at how many mechs say that. Or, y'know, maybe not. Whirls kind of a fragger. One time he actually glued Rewind to the ceiling and it took us a week to find him because Whirl had gagged him and nobody thought to look up. I mean, he was right there. Kind of makes you contemplate some things, yeah, like if you were to pass out now who on this ship is big enough to drag you back to your hab suite? Ultra Magnus maybe?"

"Stop talking. Just stop."

"Pft, fine then."

There was a long pause that was broken by Megatron making a strange sound.

"You dying?"

"I am attempting to replicate that sound."

"What sound?"

"The sound you just made."

"Oh! You mean pft."

"Yes. It has been driving me crazy for months. Everyone on this ship can do that sound."

"Well yeah, 'cause we all practiced."

Megatron glared up from the counter. "That sentence. That right there is everything wrong with this ship. Every last 'bot on this ship can make that sound and I was under the impression that it was a hardware upgrade or a code of some kind. Only to find out now that you all, what, practiced endlessly to achieve a sound that means absolutely nothing?"

"Yeah but when you put it like that it sounds kind of stupid," Swerve laughed. Megatron wasn't laughing. "Oh come on, like you don't want to make the sound to."

"That is beside the point."

"So you do?"

"Swerve, the moment this ship stops tilting I will hurt you. Maybe not right away but eventually, when you're least expecting it."

"Pft, ok Cyclonus, whatever you say."

"I am not Cyclonus!"

"Pft, I know that. It was a reference. A reference you probably don't get because you weren't here but what is it with half the 'bots on this ship threatening everyone else?"

"Because 'everyone else' is getting on my nerves."

"Pft."

"Stop doing that," Megatron yelled, losing his grip on the counter in his fury and crashing to the ground in a flurry of limbs and cups. Swerve thought about helping him but the sight of Megatron laying on the floor surrounded by empty Roddy cups, most of which were now saying 'til all are one' with varying degrees of enthusiasm ... well, if he took some pictures nobody could really blame him, right? And it wasn't like Megatron was going to remember this in the morning. "Don't let Whirl anywhere near me. I'm offlining now," Megatron groaned.

"Ok boss."

"Captain," Megatron whispered as the ceiling spun overhead. "It's Captain."

And then his lights went out.

*

"I'm telling you, I have a feeling about this star cluster," Rodimus said. 

"Pft," Megatron scoffed. "That's what you said the last three times I allowed you to choose our destination."

"Don't pft me. How did you even learn how to do that? That's a Lost Light thing, not a Decepticon thing."

"Some of us are born with an innate gift for these sorts of things," Megatron declared with a straight face.

"What is that even supposed to mean?"

"Pft, like you would even understand."

It was a pointless fight but by the end Megatron managed to fit fifteen 'pfts' into the conversation. 

It was actually pretty impressive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's right, I dedicated an entire chapter to 'pft'. Because I can. And you can't stop me!


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy crap you all know that warning banner about works random disappearing. It happened to me. One if my stories went poof. I'm a statistic! But AO3 assures me my fic is safe in the database so I ain't even worried. Now on to the show!

"He's so cute," Tailgate gasped in awe, reaching out a finger to gently touch the tiny grey helm. 

"Oh, he is going to be so angry when he wakes up," Nautica said gleefully. Which was strange because an angry Megatron wasn't really anyones idea of a good time but she seemed absolutely delighted by the idea.

"If he wakes up," Rodimus suggested. A loud metallic thud signalled the collision of Ratchets fist against Rodimus' helm at the exact same moment as Ultra Magnus' scandalized gasp. "OW. It was just a thought."

"A bad thought," Magnus barked in outrage. "What you are suggesting is nothing short of criminal."

"And we all know how you feel about criminal."

"Are you making fun of the law," Magnus asked in a dangerously polite way. A way that suggested mandatory risk assessment was in Rodimus' near future.

"It was a joke. How could I smush him when he's like this? He's just so ... tiny. It would be like stepping on Rewind."

"Ok, I am not that short," Rewind piped up. "And Tailgate is almost as short as I am, why does nobody ever bring that up?"

"Oh they do," said Tailgate bitterly. "Repeatedly. To my face."

Cyclonus was immediately by his friends side, a look of rage in his optics. "If this is a problem I will naturally volunteer my services to ... take care of the mechs responsible."

"Cyclonus," Ultra Magnus shouted.

"Oh, way to make me look bad," Chromedome muttered. "Rewind, if faceplates need punching I will gladly punch them for you."

"Chromedome!" 

"Magnus," Whirl shouted. Everyone glared. Whirl did that thing. That thing where he didn't have a face but everyone could still clearly picture the shit eating grin. 

"Whirl," Magnus gritted out.

"Janet," Rodimus shouted. 

Ratchet smacked him upside the head again. "There will be none of that."

"Soooo," Brainstorm interrupted. Everyone quieted down. "We have a problem. Our Captain-"

"Co-captain."

"-yes, thank you for that, Rodimus. Our Co-captain has been shrunk." As though it illustrate his point he pointed at the tiny Megatron resting in his palm. "Now we have two dilemmas to sort out here. The first being that nobody has made the obvious joke and called him Tinytron yet. I'm very ashamed of you all."

Nautica smacked her forehelm. "Of course! I was sort of toying with Minitron but it just didn't have a great ring to it."

"It was a good effort, Nautica and that's all we can ask for," Brainstorm commended. "Now, second dilemma. Megatron, or Tinytron, if you prefer, is currently unconscious. That means he doesn't know I accidentally shrunk him. This also means there's a chance I can get away with this if nobody says anything."

"I am highly uncomfortable with this plan," Magnus said. 

"I know, I know. But this is a matter of life and death. Megatron will actually kill me if he finds out I did this. Please guys. I'm begging you."

There was a moment of silence and then, of all people, Whirl spoke up. "Ok." Everyone looked at him. Whirl just shrugged and said in explanation, "He makes all the cool guns and stuff."

A general murmur of agreement went through the crowd.

Ultra Magnus stepped forward. "The best course of action would be to draw up a legally binding non-disclosure agreement and have all present sign. Is everyone present willing to maintain their silence in this matter or face legal persecution?"

Surprisingly everyone agreed.

And thus the third strangest document in all of Cybertronian history was drawn up.

The appropriately named: Tinytron Accord.

This story ends in anti-climax. Brainstorm unshrunk Megatron. Megatron woke up in his hab suite with a mild case of short term amnesia and life went on as normal.

Until someone began distributing tiny plush Megatrons called Tinytrons but because nobody could ever prove who did it no charges could be laid. And, in fact, the toys ended up becoming quite popular among the crew and it's rumoured that even Megatron has one. But nobody could prove that either.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this whole chapter just so I could use the word Tinytron because it's so frickin cute. I should start naming my chapters after the one thing. I imagine anyone seeing a chapter title entitled 'bomp', 'pft' or 'semi-sentient space wishes' would promptly hit the back button. Maybe I will. We'll see.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoa, it's been like a month since my last post. Oops.

The illness had spread through the ship so rapidly there was no time to put a quarantine in effect before half the ship was struck down by something Ratchet had called a 'technoviral outbreak'.

Or, in layman's terms, the flu.

Which was ridiculous. This was no mere 'flu'. His circuits were melting to his frame and his processor was obviously taking up far too much space in his helm. This wasn't a simple illness, this was death. Death had come for him at last.

"Megatron, for the last time, you are not dying," Ratchet barked.

He stared at the medic through bleary optics as his poor, aching processor tried valiantly to process the verbal data Ratchet had supplied him. A good thirty second later than was normal Megatron replied with a raspy: "I didn't mean to say that aloud."

But by that time Ratchet had already moved on to the next patient and didn't hear him.

Unfortunately a nearby Drift heard him and came up to his bed with a sympathetic smile that, in any other circumstances, Megatron would have wiped off his face with the back of his hand.

"I know this isn't really your thing but I've been trying to help out and some of the 'bots here found it helped if I gave a little prayer."

Megatron drew in a steadying breath. "Drift ...," a momentary gasp for air, "if you even think ... about praying. I will," wheeze, "kill you."

Drift grimaced. "Yeah, that's about the response I expected. I'll send Swerve over, if you won't take a prayer maybe a little friend will help. Feel better, Megatron."

"Anyone ... but ... Swerve," Megatron gasped out, but it was too late. Drift had moved on to the next patient. Megatron could only hope he died before Swerve reached him.

Megatrons luck failed him that day and not ten minutes later Swerve showed up and, shockingly, didn't say a word. He simply laid something next to Megatron and took off.

Out of curiosity Megatron turned his helm slightly to see what it was, groaning softly as the world spun wildly out of control for a minute. When the dizziness ceased he found himself staring into a tiny, plush version of his own face, complete with a little scowl and a sewn on fusion cannon.

He started at the plush him. The plush him stared back.

He wanted to be angry but, truthfully, he found these 'Tinytrons' to be a marvelous concept.

And, if he was to be overly truthful with himself, he was just a bit touched and flattered by it. The crew seemed to genuinely like them and he neither saw nor sensed any malicious purpose behind these miniature replicas. Aside from the obvious role these replicas played in lightly poking fun at his intimidating presence by turning his likeness into something soft and, dare he say it, cute.

His ego wasn't so fragile that it couldn't take a minor hit every now and then.

So he allowed the plush intruder to stay. It was a small comfort in his final hour.

Several minutes passed with only the soft sounds of the infirmary as proof he was still awake, in all other respect Megatron felt as though he were in a waking dream. The illness clouded his senses and make everything seem far away and muffled.

Which is why he failed to fully comprehend what happened next.

Ultra Magnus was walking by his med-berth when he paused and seemed to have some sort of a minor fit. Then he reared his head back and flung it forward again in a mighty sneeze that seemed to shake the very bolts of his frame loose. And in an instant that was almost too fast to follow, a hatch opened in Magnus' chest and something violently ejected itself out of Magnus' frame and directly into Megatrons lap.

Megatrons optics widened as a small mustachioed mech blinked down at him and said in Ultra Magnus' voice, "Oh! How embarrassing."

Megatron screamed.

 

*

 

He would later try to deny screaming. Then video footage surfaced of the incident and Megatron was forced to concede that yes, he had screamed and yes, the scream had been pitched rather higher than he may have preferred.

However, he would argue that Ultra Magnus was fully to blame for failing to inform his Captain that he was, in fact, a little mech wearing a big mech suit.

Then the full story came out about Ultra Magnus' true identity, and Tyrest and Luna 1.

"And, so you erased the law by way of a semi-colon, Tyrest escaped, you found the lost moon, Luna 1, and then completely and utterly failed to mention any of this to anyone?"

Rodimus made a show of thinking about it. "Well, I'm pretty sure Brainstorm also stole one of the sparks on Luna 1 to experiment on. And Cyclonus revived Tailgate with the power of love or something, but other than that, yeah. That's about it."

"I did not," Brainstorm shouted, convincing exactly no one.

Cyclonus looked embarrassed but made no attempt to correct Rodimus.

"Every last 'bot on this ship is scheduled for mandatory risk assessment as of this moment," Megatron said calmly. Too calmly, given the circumstances. "Your collective stupidity is criminal, bordering in insanity."

"See," said Whirl, "he's finally starting to get us."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I usually try to pick one idea for a chapter and stick to it but this chapter was a hodgepodge of stuff. My main idea for this chapter was me wondering if Megatron actually knows if Ultra Maguns is Minimus Ambus or if it just never came up in conversation. How would you even bring that up?


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I finished the issue #33 of MTMTE and hoooooooly shiiiiiiite. First, the feels. So many feels. My heart! Second, the twist. Did not see that coming. Did you guys see that coming? Because I did not.

Megatron was understandably dubious about these so-called 'movie nights'. At first glance the idea seems ridiculous and so typical of the Lost Light that he was sure it was bound to turn into a complete freak show at some point or another.

The first night Megatron attended was ... uncomfortable. Squished in between Trailcutter on one side (smelling of high grade and futility), and Rung on the other (the smaller bot being nearly swallowed by Megatrons bulk). There was an incredibly awkward moment of shuffling in which Trailcutter refused to budge and Megatron was forced to adjust so Rung could see properly which ended in him resting his arm across the sofa and Rung sort of nestled under the junction of his arm.

Megatron had no proof but he knew a number of the crew had taken pictures.

That night they had watched a home video, as taken by Rewind.

And was it ever an eye opener.

By the end half the crew present looked embarrassed, the other half looked proud. Rodimus, Whirl and Swerve were in amongst the 'proud' group while Ratchet, Ultra Magnus and Drift numbered in the 'embarrassed' group which should give some context as to which group had the correct response to seeing their unfortunate personal moments made public.

Megatron left the first movie night feeling as though it could have gone worse. Which, on the Lost Light, was equivalent to saying it had gone smashingly.

Subsequent movie nights became, for better or worse, something of a new tradition for Megatron.

He even went so far as to make suggestions after one too many nights of alien films that were, frankly, unwatchable. A strange Earth movie called 'Mars Attacks' was the final straw for him and most of the other movie night regulars.

Cyclonus in particular had an amusingly distressed response to the movie. "I don't understand what manner of species would subject their own citizens to this ... this ... I have no words. I thought we had problems but now I'm beginning to think we might not be as deranged as I previously thought."

"Cyclonus," Megatron said earnestly, placing a hand on Cyclonus' shoulder. "Never think that. Ever."

And so human movies were vetoed from movie night, with the exception of movies that had been approved by a committee of five mechs that had proven capable of intelligent, rational thought for at least five days prior to movie night.

That led them to the current movie night. The movie was nothing special, enough to keep him watching but not so entertaining that his mind wasn't wandering. The two mechs at his side, Trailcutter and Rung (as had become the norm), were lulling him to sleep with the rumbling of their engines and the heat of their frames.

He was so relaxed and the room was so dark it seemed almost natural to take off his helm and allow his panels to unfurl.

He wasn't trying to draw attention to himself so he made the movement as subtle as possible.

Unfortunately he forgot just who was in the crowd.

Swerve curiously looked over at Megatrons movement, looked away, blinked, did a double take. Screamed.

The rest of the mechs present yelped and began drawing their guns in a panic, fumbling over each other and desperately trying to find the enemy.

"What? What was it?" Rodimus shouted.

"Megatron," Swerve screamed.

And then some idiot shouted. "Oh Primus, Megatrons on board!"

That drew a momentary reflexive terror from the assembled crew as common sense was overrun by millions of years of conditioning to fear Megatron. Some 'bots ran, others tried to hide, some just looked confused, and still more pointed their guns at him.

Megatron just watched this all with a dumbfounded look on his face.

Finally, someone had the brilliant idea to turn on the lights which brought on another round of panic when everyone saw his helmetless head, complete with outspread panels.

"Sweet mother of engex," Trailcutter yelped, flinging himself off the sofa.

And that concluded the Lost Lights epic battle against the scourge, Megatron.

The assembled crew looked at each other, looked at Megatron, looked at his panels, looked at his helm, and seemed to calm down.

"So, I think I speak for everyone when I say I had no idea you could take that off," Rodimus said, putting away his gun.

"No kidding," Rewind agreed, furiously taping everything. "I don't have a single record of this in my database."

"They're kinda pretty," Riptide said.

There was a murmur of agreement. Megatron rolled his optics.

"Can I touch them?"

Megatron looked in shock at the speaker. Whirl. Of all 'bots. His first instinct was an immediate no, he would have to be mad to let Whirl anywhere near the sensitive panels. But something held him off.

He gave a short nod.

Whirl shuffled forward and, to the surprise of all present, gently touched one of the panels.

Megatron shivered slightly as the panels began relaying massive amounts of information back to him.

"I used to work on things like this. Watchmaking wasn't always profitable. I used to fix stuff like this as a side job."

He looked at Whirls mutilated claws in confusion before realizing that, of course, Whirl hadn't been born a victim of Empurata. It had never occurred to him to wonder what Whirl used to be, before the war, before Empurata ... before everything.

"We're you good at it? Watchmaking?"

Whirl took a step back and clenched his claws. "The best."

 

*

 

Nothing really changed after that day. You might expect that Whirl or Megatron would develop a deeper understanding of each other based on mutual respect and stop harassing one another.

You would be wrong.

 

*

 

Oh, and during that movie night incident, Rung was under Megatrons arm the whole time.

Everyone had forgotten he was there.

Even Megatron.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to include Mars Attacks into the series somehow after finding out that this exists: http://tfwiki.net/wiki/Mars_Attacks:_The_Transformers
> 
> Also, the helm. When I first read Megatron: Origins and saw him take his bucket helmet off I was alternating between 'omg pretty' and 'I had no idea that was detachable'. And it pops up again when Megatron spars with Overlord but the panels are gone and I was like 'nuuuuuuu, they were so pretty'. Anyways, it's a thing.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ERMAGERD, all y'all so nice. Every kudo and review is like getting a little present. I'm all like, is it Christmas? No! It's just awesome Transformers fans!

"Ok, if no one else is going to say it then I will," Rodimus declared to the silent bar. "What is _he_ doing here?"

All eyes turned to Ravage who was sitting politely beside Megatron, a cup of engex in front of him which he had been attempting to drink with his paws.

Ravages' head lifted and he said quite simply, "I live here now."

"The hell you do," Rodimus yelled.

"I invited him," said Megatron who was unusually guilty looking but was attempting to maintain an air of control. Failing, but attempting.

"You can't just invite new crew members on board," he yelled, sounding strangely betrayed.

"To be fair, I was already here," Ravage said with a shrug. "What was he going to do, jettison me out the airlock?" Everyone looked pointedly at the cat. "Fine. Point taken."

Rodimus looked about two seconds from a meltdown. "And what exactly were you doing on my ship-"

"-Our ship," Megatron interjected.

"- _Our_ ship. Because I sure don't remember inviting any 'Cons on board."

"Oh please," Ravage scoffed. "Like I'm the worst person here, Decepticon or not. In this room alone I see Megatron, Deadlock and Cyclonus. The leader of the Decepticons, one of our Second in Commands, and a former lackey of Galvatron who was responsible for the slaughter on Kimia. I never know Rodimus Prime was a hypocrite."

"That's not - I mean - you can't just - it's different!" Rodimus shouted.

Meanwhile Cyclonus appeared to be shrinking in on himself and Drift could be heard muttering 'I'm not called that anymore'.

Megatron just looked like he would rather be anywhere else but in that bar.

"You know, hearing it spelled out like that is kind of funny," Skids said. "I mean, Starscream runs Cybertron and Megatrons co-captaining an Autobot ship. What's one little kitty compared to that?"

"Call me that again and I'll kill you," Ravage said matter-of-factly.

Skids continued on as if he didn't hear. "What a time to be alive. I'm actually surprised we haven't like, I dunno, uncovered a Decepticon spy posing as an Autobot. That would really make this journey complete. Know what I'm talking about?"

Skids nudged Brainstorm who was clutching his briefcase. "I'm just here for the guns," Brainstorm muttered.

"Skids. Shut up. Seriously," Rodimus groaned. "Not helpful. Now you, cat-thing, why haven't I seen you around before if Megatron invited you?"

"I stowed away," he explained. " Soundwave sent me to find out if Megatron was being controlled by the Autobots. I had planned to save him if he was, kill him if he wasn't. As you can see, neither plan quite worked out for me."

Megatron grimaced.

Rodimus looked thoughtful. "Killing Megatron, now there's a plan I can get behind. Unfortunately he's my co-captain and Ultra Magnus would have my head if I started another mutiny."

"How encouraging," Ravage deadpanned.

Rodimus eyed the cat. "Not sure if you're serious or not."

"The fact that you even have to ask is also very encouraging."

Megatrons face was now resting in his palm. He wasn't sure who he felt more embarrassed for, Rodimus or himself for sharing a title with the fool.

"So, if you stay, and I'm not saying you are, you have to give up the badge. I'm not saying you have to become an Autobot but I draw the line at having a 'Con on board."

Many an eyebrow was raised at that statement.

"Fine," Ravage agreed easily. "As long as you realize it's a meaningless gesture. I am a loyal to the Decepticon cause, any removal of my badge will be symbolic at mos-"

"Yeah yeah, whatever. I don't need to hear the whole Decepticon manifesto. Just don't try to kill anyone, spy on anyone or turn my co-captain back into a 'Con and we won't have a problem."

Ravage looked long and hard at Rodimus who had turned away and gone back to his drink. Then he turned to Megatron. "You left the Decepticons for this?"

"It's really not as bad as it seems."

"How encouraging."

Megatron stared at the cat for just a touch too long. "I ... can't tell if you're being serious or not."

"The fact that you even have to ask ..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After eleven chapters Ravage finally appears. Woooo! He had a pretty big part in the latest issues and I'm kinda loving it. I sort of figure with Megatron, Drift AND Cyclonus being on board how could anyone have anything to say about Ravage? I mean, you don't have anywhere to go but up once Megatron becomes your captain. The worst they could possibly do at this point is invite Unicron or Star Saber on board or something. 
> 
> And, spoilers, if you read the latest issue you might have caught my little nod to a certain character being *cough* more than meets the eye. *badum tsh*
> 
> I'll show myself out now.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I just discovered a new Drift four-parter is coming out in November. Can I get a hell yeah! Been waiting so long for his return. Drift we miss you!

MURDER ON THE LOST LIGHT!

The crew stood around the fallen bodies of their crewmembers.

Getaways form was sprawled in a pool of energon, a single Roddy cup grinning up at the assembled mechs as though taunting them and their inability to save one of their own from such a fate.

The form of Swerve was slumped over his bar dramatically, arm stretching forward as though demanding the assembled crowd avenge his death and bring justice to the soul of this fallen warrior.

"Swerve, how can we concentrate on solving your death when you're narrating your own inner monologue," Nightbeat finally demanded in frustration.

"Yeah kinda distracting," Rodimus agreed.

"Fallen warrior," Chromedome whispered to Rewind.

"I think he's living out a fantasy," Rewind whispered back.

Whirl stepped up and examined the 'bodies'. He spend a good deal of time hemming and hawing over the evidence before turning to the audience and declaring, "It was me."

Megatron sighed and decided it was time to take matters into his own hands before Whirl caused another scene. He wrapped his hand around what passed for Whirls face and physically dragged him out of the room and, under great protest from the other mech, closed the door in his face.

When he returned it was to a scattering of light applause.

Nightbeat shook his head. "If we can get back to business. Lessons in Problem Solving 101 will now resume."

Tailgate put up a hand.

"Yes Tailgate?"

"I have a problem with the title of this lesson."

"Deal with it. Now. Back to Lesson in Crime Solving 101."

"What - but you just. He just changed the title," Tailgate sputtered.

"Shhh," hissed Brainstorm, "I'm trying to listen."

"Now, even the lot of you should be able to come up with some reasonable scenarios for this murder. This is a very basic scene I've created here and, best of all, is completely 100% plausible."

Rodimus put a hand on his chin and walked back and forth around the 'bodies'. "Swerve killed Getaway, I'm sure of that. But if Swerve killed Getaway that leaves two questions. Why did Swerve kill him and who killed Swerve?"

The assembled mechs looked at their co-captain in surprise.

Even Megatron had to grudgingly give credit to Rodimus for coming up with a halfway decent theory.

"Very good," Nightbeat commended, a little condescendingly. "And the why is always the most important question. Well, second. First is, a trade secret. Does anyone else have any thoughts?"

Tailgate put up his hand.

"Tailgate, you don't have to put up your hand."

"It's just what I do. I think Getaway was killed by the cup. His head looks dented and the majority of energon is by his head."

"It's getting in my joints," Getaway complained.

"No talking," Nightbeat said.

"Look at his hand. Getaways holding something," Brainstorm pointed out.

Everyone moved in close to look and indeed, Getaway was clutching a piece of torn paper.

The fallen mech turned his head to see everyone zeroing in on his hand.

"What is it? Nightbeat wouldn't let me see," he asked.

"Corpses don't speak," Nightbeat ground out. "If any more fake corpses start speaking I'm going to start making real corpses."

Everyone looked at Nightbeat, not quite sure if he was being serious or not. Sometimes it was hard to tell.

"Says the only actual corpse in the room," Brainstorm muttered after a beat.

A collective 'ooooh' went through the room.

"Take a look in the mirror lately Mr. Gave-Birth-Through-His-Undead-Space-Bridge-Chest-Portal," Nightbeat sniped back.

Brainstorm reeled back with a scandalised gasp."That was not birth! Don't call it that! And you want to start talking about space bridge chest portals then you better start talking to our Captain."

"Co-captain," Rodimus sighed. "For the last time, _co_ -captain."

"Wait, wait wait. You're all _dead_ ," Chromedome squawked in shock, taking a step back.

Everyone gave him a look.

"Undead," Tailgate corrected.

"And ... and you all knew? This isn't, like, news to anyone?"

Everyone shrugged and nodded. The three undead(ish) mechs in the room just sort of tried to look like it wasn't a big deal.

"Well, Cyclonus is my roommate so I'm pretty used to the whole dead universe zombie thing," Tailgate explained.

"So, just to confirm, we have four zombies running around on this ship and, what, nobody cares," Chromedome asked, a hint of hysteria in his voice.

Rewind patted his arm. "It's ok, Domey. Maybe you should lay down."

"I-I just-yeah, ok."

Instead of laying down Chromedome crouched down and put his helm between his legs, venting deeply in and out.

"Um, what is he doing," Swerve asked, giving up any pretense of being a corpse.

"Oh, oh, I know. It's, um, a relaxation thing. Rung recommended it to me in his therapy sessions. It's supposed to help with stress or panic or whatever," Rodimus said.

"You go to therapy," Swerve asked.

"You mean you haven't been," Megatron demanded. "Didn't you get Ultra Magnus' memo on Mandatory Risk Assessment?"

"Wait, you mean everyone here's getting free therapy and I've been missing out? Why didn't anyone tell me?" Serve asked in a deeply hurt voice.

"There was a memo, I just said so," Megatron grit out. "You know what. Go. Right now. This lesson is cancelled."

"But we didn't find out who killed Swerve," Tailgate protested.

"For the love of, how you all have managed to go this long without spontaneously combusting under the pressure of your own stupidity is astonishing. I'm the murderer. Did none of you notice I'm covered in energon and holding the murder weapon," Megatron demanded.

Everyone looked their co-captain up and down.

"Oops," Rewind offered apologetically.

"In my defense," Rodimus said, "I always expect to see you covered in energon and holding a murder weapon."

"Rodimus. You lower the collective IQ of everyone in the room whenever you say things like that. Swerve, go see Rung immediately. Rewind, get Chromedome to your hab suite. The rest of you, clean this mess up. I'm going to the washracks."

Megatron left with a scowl on his face.

"Pfft, rude," Rodimus muttered.

"So rude," Swerve agreed.

Nightbeat just looked mournful.

What a waste of a good crime scene.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not totally clear on if Megatron is actually undead or not but having a gut full of space bridges ain't helping his 'not-undead' case in my mind.   
> I didn't realize how the population of undead zombies was racking up on the Lost Light until I went back and re-read some issues. It's like, really high. And literally nobody ever mentions it. EVER. 
> 
> Also, I <3 Nightbeat. I ship him and Nautica. They go perfect together.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So did you all read the latest issue because if not then SPOILERS SPOILERS SPOILERS. I'm in love with the DJD, but I also hate them, but they're sooooo coooool, but they're also suuuuuch dickheads. I'm torn in many different directions. Also, since I ship Megatron/Rung like a complete weirdo I was super happy to see Rung making an appearance to totally save Megatrons bacon. Those two are my canon ship that just will not sail.
> 
> Anyways. Enough about me. How are all you? I have a new chapter for you lovely folk. Please enjoy.

Ultra Magnus approached Megatron in a way that was inappropriately clandestine given the circumstances - the circumstances being Megatron was pouring himself some energon from the communal dispenser in the command room when Magnus snuck up behind him, scaring the daylights out of Megatron when he suddenly whispered in his ear 'did you get my memo'?

Megatron jumped, spilling energon and giving Ultra Magnus a face full of fusion cannon before realizing who it was he was pointing his cannon at. Magnus' hand went in the air, the universal gesture for 'please don't shoot'.

The few loitering 'bots who - bless his lucky stars - just so happened to be Rodimus and Drift, both who had guns and swords pointed at him before anyone could even fully rationalize what the hell was going on.

"Drop the cannon, Megatron," Rodimus warned in a tone Megatron was sure he meant to be intimidating.

"It's attached to my arm."

"I don't care, drop it."

"Or," he suggested, "I could simply lower my cannon, you can lower your gun, Drift can put away his swords and Magnus here can explain why he was sneaking up on me to whisper in my ear about memos."

"Memos," Drift repeated incredulously. "You're holding up Magnus over a memo."

"What? Don't be ridiculous. I'm holding him up because he came up behind me. It's like you've all forgotten this is a ship full of hair trigger war veterans with a shaky, at best, hold on reality. This is not the ship to be sneaking up on people and whispering in their ears."

Drift gave him a cock eyed look that Megatron did not appreciate one bit. "So, I'm sense you might be a little tense then?"

"Let's leave the psychoanalyzing to the professionals. I already have a therapist, thank you very much," he sneered at the swordsman.

"Ok, whatever," Rodimus said. "You've still got your fusion cannon in Magnus' face."

"Because you've still got weapons pointed at me. You can't expect me to leave myself without some leverage in this situation," he explained in what he thought was a completely rational explanation until both Rodimus and Dtift gave scandalized gasps.

"So you admit you're holding Ultra Magnus hostage," Rodimus demanded.

"Hostage is such a strong word."

"Magnus," Drift called. "Are you alright."

"Alright is not the word I would use," Magnus said, voice strangely amplified by the fusion cannon covering most of his face. "This is a severe breach of protocol, propriety and the law, I'll have you all know. I'm afraid I'm going to have to file a -"

"Let me stop you there," Megatron interrupted, jamming the cannon further into Magnus' face. "Because if you mention paperwork to me after we just got through all the paperwork from the last incident I'm going to be tempted to use this cannon."

"Stop threatening him," Rodimus shouted.

"Like you haven't threatened Magnus over paperwork before."

"I didn't have a fusion cannon pointed at his face!"

"No, only the threat of your grating personality," Megatron shot back.

"Everyone," Drift finally yelled. "Calm down. We all just need to take a breath and relax. There's too much tension in this room. Didn't I tell you, Rodimus, this room just breeds tension. We definitely should have moved the dispenser to the other side of the room and arranged the chairs in a semi circle around the table, it's a more soothing and fluid workspace that way."

"Drift, despite what you may believe, people don't point guns on other people's faces over furniture arrangements," said Megatron.

"I wasn't saying that ... I was just saying we could all do with a more relaxed environment. Maybe we can all start by lowering our weapons."

"First intelligent thing you've said all month." Drift glared at him. Megatron just smirked. "Can I have both your word that you won't fire when I drop my cannon?"

"You have my word," Drift said gravely.

Everyone looked at Rodimus who tried and failed to look like he wasn't seriously contemplating saying yes for appearances sake and then immediately shooting his co-Captain. Rodimus was so transparent sometimes it was embarrassing.

Drift elbowed him.

"What? Oh fine. Whatever. You have my word," Rodimus grumbled.

Megatron eyed the two mechs up and then slowly lowered his fusion cannon.

Ironically, he was so worried about Rodimus double crossing him he didn't even notice Ultra Magnus' fist flying towards his face until it was too late.

When he woke up in the med-bay several hours later it was to a raging headache, a few halfhearted get well notes and a stern memo from Ultra Magnus entitled: 'This isn't over'. The body of the memo described in excruciating detail the lengths to which Ultra Magnus was about to go to punish his Captain for the hostage incident. The punishment would take the form of Ultra Magnus' favorite method of torture.

Educating his Captain on the finer points of the unabridged version of the Autobot Code, something, Ultra Magnus assured him in his memo, was 'a long time in coming'. That read as unnecessarily threatening even to Megatron.

And so began Megatrons most epic quest to date.

Tactical Retreat and General Avoidance of Ultra Magnus.

A quest he ultimately failed at but was hilarious to watch while it lasted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TWO MORE DAYS UNTIL DRIFT: EMPIRE OF STONE!!!!!!
> 
> EDIT: I have been informed I messed up my dates and Empire of Stone isn't out until the 19th.  
> *tears down party decorations*   
> I ain't even mad.  
> *burns party decorations*  
> I'm totally fine.  
> *stares into the flames*


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In light of the new Drift mini-series (which you should all go read like yesterday) I've decided to base a chapter around .... RATCHET. Because you can't have one without the other.

Megatron was rather enjoying himself. He was alone but solitude had become something of a rare treat in the many months since he had been on board and so he was enjoying himself by doing nothing more that staring out at the stars. It was good.

Right up until the doors slid open and in stormed an angry medic.

Ratchet stomped his way through the room and right up to Megatron until he was looking up at his Captain with a furious frown on his face. Megatron knew that look well. There was only one mech on the entire ship who could make Ratchets face do that amusing 'there-is-something-wrong-with-the-universe-and-all-the-people-in-it' face.

"What did Drift do," Megatron asked, cutting straight to the meat of the problem.

"Yoga," Ratchet hissed.

Megatron raised an eyebrow. "...Yoga?"

"Yes. Yoga." He spat out the word as one would a foul expletive.

"I will assume this is a real word and one that should mean something to me."

Ratchet gave him a dirty look. Megatron couldn't even find it in himself to care. Ratchet had been giving him dirty looks from across the battlefield for four million years. He'd grown somewhat immune to it after the first two million.

"How did you manage to spend so much time on Earth and still pick up nothing of the culture or words there?"

Megatron smirked. "Simple. I don't associate myself with lower lifeforms. As a matter of personal pride, you see." Ratchet sputtered indignantly, to which Megatron smiled placidly. This was fun. He missed riling Ratchet. The medic was always good for a laugh. "So. Yoga?"

The medic rubbed his forehead, taking a deep, calming breath and exhaling. He was going to blow a circuit one of these days. "It's a human exercise. A ... _spiritual_ human exercise."

"And this concerns me because?"

"Because you have to stop him," Ratchet yelled, finally at the end of his rope.

"Why?" He was truly getting so much pleasure from drawing this out it was almost obscene.

"He's teaching a class!"

"And I still fail to see the problem."

"Because it's - it's just - it looks ridiculous and he's embarrassing himself."

"I see."

"Good."

There was a big awkward silence. Well, big and awkward for Ratchet who was being incredibly transparent in his antagonistic relationship with Drift. Megatron was still trying to figure out their strange dynamic. Drift was, well, Drift. A well meaning and giving (to a fault) individual with spiritual beliefs that were all over the map. An oddball but harmless enough. Strangely enough, it was Ratchet who was the confusing one of the two.

Megatron knew was Drift was all about. He didn't particularly care for Drifts religious leanings but he understood the other mech. Drift wore his heart on his sleeve and was about as transparent as they came. In some ways they were alike, though Megatron didn't care to dwell on it too much.

Ratchet, now there was a mystery. As far as Megatron could tell the other mech would invade Drifts life to offer completely unsolicited criticism from time to time, acting as though it was his life mission to stomp Drift beliefs into the ground. And he became extremely irate when others didn't see eye to eye with his obsessive goal to purge Drift of all spiritual leanings. And if that was all there was to it Megatron would understand. Bitter atheist medic hates religion, not exactly a new concept. But that wasn't it.

Ratchet and Drift were best friends.

Or lovers.

Megatron still wasn't quite sure on that point.

Regardless, out of a relationship seemingly based on nothing but religion based bickering somehow those two were attached at the hip.

And it wasn't Drift keeping them so close. It was Ratchet.

Drift was a somewhat oblivious mech, prancing through life as only those 'free spirit' types could. If Drift had his druthers he would wander the galaxy helping every creature with a sob story, giving of himself until there was nothing left to give. And Ratchet, it seemed, would simply not allow that.

And Megatron couldn't understand why.

Why an intelligent, rational mech like Ratchet would waste his time trying to save a young, hothead like Drift from himself (often going too far in the process and coming off as a touch on the crazy side).

Megatron had always respected the other mech despite being on opposing sides for most of their lives. And yet in this he was baffled. Perhaps the medic saw something in Drift Megatron could not. Or, more likely, the mech had come slightly unhinged and in his insanity had imprinted on Drift like a young water fowl.

Regardless. It was amusing to watch.

"Well," Ratchet said impatiently.

"Hmm? Yes, of course. Well, lead the way. If I find this 'yoga' class to be disruptive to the crew I'll have it shut down."

Ratchet breathed a sigh of relief and led Megatron towards an open rec area.

And the sight that greeted him nearly made him laugh.

He was laughing on the inside. No. He was on the ground and positively howling with glee on the inside.

On the outside his eye twitched.

Five mechs, Bluestreak, Nautica, Tailgate, Rewind and Trailcutter, were being led by Drift in some kind of bizarre posing exercise.

"And now we're transitioning into downward dog. Remember to keep breathing from your intake valve."

"See," Ratchet hissed.

It was a difficult task to keep a straight face. "I see no problem with this."

"But it's - Primus, they have their afts in the air, Megatron. This can't go on. One of them is going to pull something and come running to me to fix it."

"Ratchet. I told you I would do something if it was disruptive to the crew. This is anything but. If anything it's shutting Bluesteak up, something we should all be thankful for. I'm sorry, but there's nothing I can do."

With that he walked away.

And that was that. Megatron would carry the memories of those mechs doing yoga and in his darkest days he could look back on it and get a good chuckle. And that's how the story should have ended, an amusing diversion and nothing more.

Until he happened across that same rec room a few days later and saw a significant increase in the number of participants.

And then a few weeks later when advertisements began showing up around Swerves for yoga classes.

And then several months down the road in which Megatron came across an alarmingly large class of yoga participants and spotted a familiar red and white figure in the crowd.

It seemed Ratchet too lived by the principle of: if you can't beat 'em, join 'em.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is nothing good about who I am or what I do.
> 
> Also SPOILERS, when Ratchet showed up in Empire of Stone I about peed myself in joy. Seriously. They are just the most adorable thing ever. Like, just kiss already. AMIRITE? Also, for how much rampant shipping of these characters I do I am SHOCKED, positively SHOCKED I've managed to go fifteen chapters without turning this fic into a smut-fest. I'm so proud of myself.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Omg been a looong time since my last update. Reasons being: new job, new apartment.  
> I quit my shitty horrible job with my shitty horrible boss (who I hate with every fiber of my being) and moved to a job with less overall shitiness.   
> Then I left my shitty horrible apartment and my shitty horrible roommates and got a place by myself with less overall shitiness.   
> Overall mood today: good.

Megatron was walking towards the Bridge when he spotted it sitting innocuously on the ground, right in the middle of the hallway where it was sure not to be missed by any passersby.

A hat.

Megatron eyed the hat warily, suspecting perhaps Whirl was waiting nearby to laugh at the unsuspecting 'bot whose face this seemingly innocent object would explode into. When many minutes passed and nothing happened he began to suspect Brainstorm was behind this and the hat, when triggered, would send him into a fit of melancholy so deep he would hide in his room for a week, refusing all sustenance because 'the sooner I depart from this world the sooner my anguish will be over' and he would be damned if he was having a repeat of _that_ incident again. Half the crew had been incapacitated for a week with 'the blues' as Ratchet called it.

When no extraordinary sense of the futility of his continued existence arose he dared to step closer. Then he stepped back fearing this hat was some new and horrifying contraption he had never thought to imagine.

After several minutes he was then joined by Tailgate who instinctively paused at seeing the hat.

Megatron looked down at Tailgate. Tailgate looked up at Megatron.

"What is it," Tailgate asked, a tremor of fear in his voice.

"It appears to be," he re-examined the object, "a hat."

"Who put it there?"

"I do not know."

"Oh."

"Indeed."

They both stared at the hat.

"Do you think it's radioactive," Tailgate asked.

"On this ship, the probability of that is alarmingly high."

"Maybe we should shoot it ... just in case."

"I don't want to risk triggering an explosion."

Tailgate nodded vigorously. "Right! Good thinking. "

They were then joined by Swerve who took one look at the two mechs staring at the hat and turned right back around, marching swiftly away while shouting over his shoulder, "Good luck, you guys."

Ultra Magnus came rushing down the hall moments later in a panic saying, "I was informed there was a hat."

Megatron and Tailgate pointed to the hat and Ultra Magnus reared back with a muttered, "Oh dear! Do we have any information on this hat?"

"No. I encountered it while walking down the hall. It appears to have been left here by an unknown suspect," Megatron informed Ultra Magnus.

"I see. And the likelihood this is a normal hat?"

"Unknown. I'm taking no chances, though."

Magnus nodded approvingly. "After the last time we can't be too careful."

"My thoughts precisely. I suspect we'll need containment of some kind. Perceptor will likely have a containment field in his lab perhaps he should be-"

"My hat!"

Everyone turned around to look at Rodimus who strode past everyone, completely oblivious to the tense atmosphere, and picked up the hat, placing it on his head with flourish (cocking it at a jaunty angle) and turning to face the assembled mechs with a wide grin.

Then he walked off without a word.

No one moved for long while. Then Megatron spoke.

"Tailgate, run as fast as you can and get Ratchet, but be discreet. Magnus, you're with me. We'll take him down and hold him until Ratchet arrives."

Magnus nodded determinedly, powering up his guns. Megatron did the same and Tailgate ran as fast as his little legs would carry him.

The resulting battle was short lived as the imposter was no match for the combined strength of Megatron and Ultra Magnus. The imposter was revealed to be a spy sent by the Galactic Council and he was sent on his way with a number of bruises to show for his failed mission. They might have killed or imprisoned him but Rodimus wanted to send a message and did so in the form of a video he has sent back with the disgraced spy of him gleefully torturing the hat until nothing remained but a smouldering husk of the proud hat it once was. He sent the remains back with the spy as well.

Based on the chilly reception Megatron received the next time he was forced to speak with the Council he assumed they got the message.

Well, it was their own fault for not doing research and for being caught spying under the most amateur of circumstances.

The Lost Light was a strictly hat-free zone.

Everyone knew that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hats! I knew I needed to make a chapter about hats and this is it. On writing this chapter it was going to be something completely different but this chapter decided nope we're not doing that so this is what you get. This is the last time I let chapters write themselves.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahahaha, I bet you all thought I abandoned this fic BUT YOU WERE WRONG. I been all busy.   
> Last issue of MTMTE gave me some much needed inspiration. And the countdown begins to Return of the Decepticon Justice Division. Are your panties getting ready to fly off? I know mine are.  
> Anywho, down to business. Read on and enjoy.

Tailgate was tiny. It is known. Among the crew there is only one tinier and his name is Rewind. However, Tailgate combined the trait Rewind lacked of being both tiny _and_ adorable into one mech, a formidable combination, Megatron often thought.

Now it is widely agreed upon by the crew of the Lost Light that Tailgates size combined with his youthful wide eyed adorableness and an unexpectedly ruthless streak meant that he was effectively untouchable. Well, that and Cyclonus was permanently glued to his side and even the boldest of crewmembers thought twice about messing with him (Whirl being a possible exception to this rule). So when Tailgate did tiny, adorable things like lying about being a bomb disposal expert, or erasing the law or pointing a gun at former feared Decepticon leader Megatron ... he was pretty much just allowed to get away with it.

And when he took up the habit of jumping on peoples backs and poking them in the head, well, everyone just sort of laughed and went with it because Tailgate was so tiny and adorable and Cyclonus was glowering at them from the corner and making everyone really uncomfortable.

All this and more gave Megatron a healthy dislike of the little 'bot.

It wasn't that he felt threatened by Tailagte per se (it's hard to feel threatened by someone you have to watch out not to step on), but when someone points a gun at you it is always wise to never turn your back on said someone.

Which was unfortunate given Tailgates habit of jumping on backs recently.

Now the whole jumping on backs thing was something Megatron never really worried about; Tailgate didn't like him and would, therefore, never willingly jump on his back.

Unwillingly however, that was another story.

"I'm going to die," Tailgate whimpered, huddling further against the stone.

Megatron glared at the other 'bot, not for a second failing to notice how Tailgate didn't seem to take Megatrons imminent death into consideration. When he was done glaring at Tailgate he then began glaring out at the barren wasteland that was becoming increasingly less barren as it filled up with a murderous, mindless Insecticon hoard that seemed hell bent on eating everything it their path. Even if that everything included two stranded mechs.

Megatron grimaced as he watched Insecticons flooding the desert and with every one of their numbers he knew their chances of survival were diminishing.

They were in a four way cluster-frag, a mountain to their backs, an endless desert wasteland to their left, an Insecticon hoard in front of them and a canyon to their right.

If the situation wasn't so dire Megatron might have almost found it amusing how horribly stacked the odds were against them. As it was he was doing his best to calculate their odds of survival based on so many variables and what he was coming up with was grim. Their only real shot at survival was the unknown of the canyon. Perhaps by some miracle they would be able to climb down or find some sort of way to the other side. It was a laughably slim chance but between certain death and a slightly less than certain death he knew where their path lay.

And with the promise of a slightly less than certain death Megatron uttered words he never imagined would pass his lips. "Tailgate, jump on my back."

The little mech looked at him. A parade of emotions crossed his face, chief among them was the 'oh Primus, he's finally cracked' expression ... an expression used so much in his presence he had created a name for it.

"Um ... no."

"Tailgate, I don't have time to argue with you. Our only chance is to make a break for the canyon. Your legs are too short to make the run, your only shot is getting on my back and hoping I can outrun the Insecticons, an option that is becoming increasingly unlikely the more time we waste."

Tailgate looked at him seriously, then looked at the Insecticons as though weighting which he would prefer. Megatron was about a second from leaving Tailgate for dead when the little mech looked at him with a grave expression and said, "Turn around and bend down."

Just another in a long series of things he never thought he'd hear.

Megatron obliged and heard Tailgate get up to a running start before a small weight landed on his back. Tailgate scrambled up his back to his neck and clung tightly to his shoulders. Without wasting any time Megatron growled a quick 'hold on tight' and was off.

Megatron had never been a runner, he was solid and heavy and built for maintaining his ground, but in that moment he felt as though he could best Blurr for fastest sprint to the finish line.

The Insecticons quickly noticed their movement and began swarming, chittering in a loud, grating tone that was as terrifying as it was annoying. Megatron didn't look to see if they were catching up but by Tailgates cry of terror he was guessing they were. Impossibly, he sped up, pushing his frame to its limits, feeling the pull in his struts.

They were close and Megatron could tell his hope of their being some sort of miracle by which they could escape was not going to happen. The canyon was a sheer drop and too wide to even think about jumping. But still he ran.

And then ... a miracle happened.

Flying through the canyon towards them, thrusters burning red hot was Cyclonus.

Megatron knew this miracle wasn't for him. In a split second he had a choice to make. The swarm was almost there. He wasn't going to make it. But if he had to die he might as well try to die a hero because Primus knew he had had enough of villainy to last him a lifetime.

Reaching back he grabbed Tailgate by his head, relishing the sound of the mechs indignant squeak, and took two more steps, wound his arm back and sent the tiny mech hurling into the air, a piercing shriek from the little 'bot gave Megatron some satisfaction of a job well done.

He was just in time to see Cyclonus catch Tailgate midair before his stride took him to the canyons edge and he jumped.

Better to die on his own terms.

Better to die like a hero.

 

*

 

When he opened his eyes it was to the overly bright lights of the med bay. Megatron squinted.

"Ah, awake are we?" Ratchet beamed at him in a manner Megatron found thoroughly unpleasant. "Well I'll be damned if I know how you did it but you're a tough bastard to kill, I'll give you that. And before you start wondering why you can't move it's because I had to remove your body for extensive repairs. As it turns out, flinging yourself into a canyon isn't optimal for overall health. But why am I even telling you this? It's not like you ever listen to sound medical advice. I swear everyone on this ship is either suicidal or has a complete lack of self preservation and respect for the work I put in to keeping you scrap buckets functioning."

Ratchet was still beaming happily throughout this entire tirade which Megatron found both disturbing and confusing.

"Anyways. You'll be happy to know the crew sends their well wishes. And Tailgate and Cyclonus stopped by to give you something but you were still offline. It's over there."

Ratchet pointed and Megatrons eyes followed to a small stand by his head where there stood two vials filled with a glowing violet liquid that Megatron didn't recognize right away. He stared at them in confusion when he realized with a jolt of disbelief what they were.

Innermost energon.

He blinked, not believing his eyes. Tailgate and Cyclous had left this for him? He looked around to see if there were any other people in the medbay. Surely this was a mistake. Tailgate hated him and Cyclonus was only passingly tolerant of him. It was impossible that they would give up their innermost energon for him. There weren't any others though, the medbay was empty aside from himself and Ratchet.

Megatron looked back at the vials, glowing so innocuously. He stared as though if he did so long enough they would vanish like a dream. But they didn't.

He looked away, closing his eyes tight.

A part of him almost wished he hadn't done it, hadn't decided to be a hero at the last minute.

Being a villain didn't hurt this much.

Being a villain didn't make his eyes burn.

Being a villain didn't make his spark ache.

"Megatron? Are you alright," Ratchet asked softly.

Being a villain was lonely.

Megatron took a deep breath and opened his eyes, staring at the ceiling and willing his eyes to stop burning. When he spoke he had to take great care to keep his voice steady but it still came out rough.

"Yes. I am."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I bet you thought this chapter was going to be funny. Nope. I wrote this chapter initially to be just a funny chapter about Tailgates habit of jumping on backs but then I climbed aboard the feels train and got all reflective and broody. Next chapter will be funny. Pinky swear.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it's been almost a year. I bet you all thought I abandoned this fic DIDN'T YOU? Not so, I could never abandon my baby. I did, however, take some time off to focus on my career. LASER CAREER FOCUS! Such career. Much focus. Wow! I'm happy to report it's been going well so I'll likely start writing more. I'm working on a fic that may or may not see the light of day, we'll see. 
> 
> Anyways, on to the fic.

“Perceptor we don’t have time for all this magic talk,” Rodimus shouted. “I need a solution and I need it now.”

 

Perceptor stared at Rodimus with a look so bland it was hostile. Then he turned to Megatron (which Rodimus thought was super rude) and asked, “Did you understand?”

 

“An extraterrestrial parasitic infestation that is weak to vibrations and sound,” Megatron answered succinctly. “I understand the weakness but you’ve given us no solutions on how to transfer that into a weapon. For once I’m in agreement with Rodimus, we don’t need talk, we need a solution.”

 

Perceptors expression became even blander and Rodimus was sure the scientist was going to snap at any moment. “I see I was too generous in my assumptions of your scientific capabilities,” Perceptor said calmly. 

 

Rodimus smiled. Megatron snapped his head to glare at his co-captain who just shrugged in a way he hoped said: ‘sorry you’re not as smart as you thought you were’. Then he actually said it because he thought he might have been too subtle with the shrug and he was getting really tired of people implying he was stupid when they were clearly just as stupid. Wait. No, that implied he was stupid. Damn it.

 

“As you can see, Perceptor, my co-captain is very confused. Simple words would be best. What do you think the solution to this problem is?”

 

Perceptor accepted the plea for help and stroked his chin as every mech in the room craned forward in anticipation. “A five part harmony in tandem with rhythmic body motion,” he said decisively.

 

Every mech paused.

 

Magnus was the first to speak. “By that statement am I to take you to mean we need to - to - by Primus, I can’t say it,” was his pained reaction.

 

“A song and dance routine,” Ratchet deadpanned. “A bunch of mech flailing and yelling off-key at a problem to make it go away, nothing usual there.”

 

Megatron was about to reprimand Ratchet for his unhelpful, but true, comments when he caught sight of Rodimus’ expression (cocky determination, wide eyed optimism and just a slightly dreamy look) and realized that it didn’t matter what he said, someone on this ship was going to be dancing and singing at these parasites.

 

He looked at Perceptor and said with all the resignation of a mech who has given up trying to fight the inevitable, “We’ll need details.”

 

*

  
  


Auditions took place in the main auditorium where mechs were given five minutes to sing and dance their sparks out in front of a panel of judges to their choice of music, the judges being Rodimus, Megatron, Drift, Ultra Magnus and Ratchet.

 

It was perhaps the most … enlightening moment of Megatrons Lost Light career.

 

For example, he learned that no one on board could dance to, literally, save their lives. The jerky movements and lack of rhythm hurt him in ways he never thought he could be hurt. And since auditions were mandatory he was subjected to some of the crews most inept dancers. He didn’t think he could ever get Swerves dancing (if that display of gyrating and, ugh, thrusting could truly be called that) out of his processor. Then there were mechs who were simply too shy to put themselves out there and swayed awkwardly while mumbling something that might be a song under their breath. There were mechs who plainly refused to make a real effort and mechs who tried to make too much of an effort. Though he did have to admit, Nauticas and Nightbeats waltz was passable but hardly what they needed.

 

The dancing was terrible.

 

The less said about the singing the better. Suffice to say he would never look at Ravage the same way again.

 

At the end of the auditions Megatron was left with a sense of defeat and a severe case of second-hand embarrassment.

 

The rest of the command crew sat in their judges seats, quiet. Traumatised. 

 

“There’s only one solution,” Drift said into the heavy silence. “It has to be us.”

 

It was testament to how badly auditions had gone that not a single one of them disputed it.

  
  


*

  
  


Rehearsals were held with the same secrecy and covertness of the most highly sensitive of missions.

 

That is to say most of the crew knew about it by the end of their first rehearsal. 

 

It was immediately clear that while most of them, Ultra Magnus in particular, were not adept at dancing, between the five of them they could hold a beat. They picked a song under Perceptors advice and began rehearsing in earnest. 

 

And, if Megatron was to be completely honest, he was having fun.

 

Something about the regimented nature of synchronous dance and harmonization had a very military feel to it that he understood and used to push himself harder. That, coupled with Drifts natural talent for the artistic leant the performance a smoother, more natural flow.

 

At times he could even forget how humiliated he was.

 

At times he almost wasn’t even humiliated.

 

The first night they completed the entire song and dance routine he was actually, dare he admit such a thing to himself, proud.

 

And so, after weeks of rigorous practice, they were ready to save the ship.

 

Perceptor had advised maximum exposure. Of course he mean maximum exposure to the parasites but Rodimus had taken that to mean maximum crew exposure and, never being one to do anything halfway, the affair turned into a sort of concert.

 

When Magnus found out he nearly started to cry. Nearly. In that he sat down, put his head in his hands and wouldn’t move for long enough that even Megatron began to worry. However Magnus was not a mech to give up and so it was with great resolve that the five of them stepped on stage together.

 

The entire crew was present. Swerve was bartending, Whirl was attempting to covertly film them, several mechs were bartering rust sticks around. Some mechs were just staring.

 

Megatron contemplated running. He could likely make it to an escape pod before anyone caught him. Then he remembered that the pods too were infested and he could only despair in silence. 

 

The lights dimmed.

 

The crowd went wild.

 

When the music started and as the lights went up he began to move and sing without thought. Just like they’d practiced. He hardly registered the cacophonous noise being produced by the crew, all that mattered was getting it right. Harmonizing with the higher pitches of Drift and Rodimus’ voices, taking into account the lower voices of Ultra Magnus and Ratchet. Bend the knee, up, pivot, down again. Don’t forget the arms.

 

He could see the parasites reacting.

 

It was working!

 

The crew was wildly cheering, almost drowning out the music, even the more stoic members of the crew looked impressed as the command crew moved in perfect synchronicity, voices blending together into one.

 

The final moment came and Megatron dropped into his finishing pose, venting harder the normal and burning with embarrassment even as the crew became even louder in their cheers. Shouts of encore could be heard. Over his cold, grey corpse.

 

Which seemed to be no longer a real threat as the ships walls appeared parasite free.

 

They had done it.

  
  


*

  
  


Naturally the resulting video was in high demand and every member of the command crew had put strict restrictions on outgoing communications, lest the video make it’s way into the hands of the public.

 

It was a week or so after the incident and Megatron had suffered no lasting harm from the event. In fact the performance may have even made his life easier as the crew were so enamoured with the idea of Megatron (of all mechs) dancing and singing that he had yet to hear a single disparaging remark about his former allegiances since the performance.

 

Which led him to the present.

 

He hadn’t fully thanked Perceptor for his part in saving the ship and, looking to correct that, had made his way to the Science Department.

 

Perceptor was very gracious, if Megatron was deciphering the mildly bland expression right.

 

“Although I must say, I was surprised you all went along with that.”

 

What? 

 

“What do you mean by that?”

 

“Simply that next time it would behoove everyone to take a greater interest in the scientific aspects of this mission, for your own benefit as well as my own.”

 

He had a sneaking suspicion. More than a suspicion, in fact if Perceptors barely bland expression was anything to go by. “The five part harmony and rhythmic body motion … none of that was necessary, was it?”

 

“Of course not. Who ever heard of a creature that could be defeated through song and dance?”

 

Megatron grit his teeth. “It was the noise, wasn’t it? All we needed to do in the first place was to get the crew to shout all at once and that would have worked just as well.”

 

“For what it’s worth, I thought the performance was very well done,” Perceptor said.

  
And then he smiled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now I'm not saying you need to, but if you want to picture them singing and dancing to Call Me Baby by EXO, I'm not going to stop you. However, this is all in the realm of headcanon because two chapters based on kpop songs would be wrong. (I don't even like kpop that much I don't know why I keep doing this)


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woooo, another chapter out in less than a month. I'm on a roll! A really small roll. ROLL TIPSY ROLL!

Mandatory Risk Assessment day had come. Or rather, Mandatory Risk Assessment day had come and immediately choked on it’s own bureaucratic red tape. 

 

Which was interesting as Megatron was entirely unaware of anything resembling bureaucracy on the ship, or even anything resembling a semi-coherent standard operating procedure or, indeed, even a simple ‘how to’ guide. The Lost Light ran on what appeared to be split second decision making and a mild sense of paranoia. 

 

One would think Megatron would dislike this. One would be dead wrong. After millennia of dealing with Tarns obsessive bureaucratic tendencies Megatron was well and truly happy to be spared the endless documentation and paperwork that came with such a process. Years of being lost in space, fighting an intergalactic war had been a soothing balm compared to the hellhole that was the bureaucratic process.

 

Which is why when he discovered Ultra Magnus attempting to set up strict rules and peer reviewed guidelines for Mandatory Risk Assessment he felt the cold hand of terror placing itself upon his shoulder. When the words ‘performance management’ and ‘five signatures of those who have been approved by an elected committee’ were casually dropped he quaked. It was upon him. The paperwork. The endless, endless paperwork.

 

“Magnus, I believe we need to have a talk about these new guidelines you’re setting in place.”

 

Magnus stood up straighter, looking pleasantly surprised. “I’m glad to see at least one member of the crew is taking an interest in the administrative process. Tell me, do you think committee elections or general elections are the way to go in this case? There is precedence in both under the law.”

 

“No.”

 

Magnus stared at him. “No?”

 

“No,” he said again, firmly. “No elections. No administrative process. I can’t do this again.” He realized that might have sounded a tad desperate and revised his statement. “That is to say, are you sure going to such lengths is necessary. After all this ship is primarily,” he choked on the words, how the mighty had fallen, “self governing.”

 

Magnus stared.

 

Megatron tried to look like he believed his own words. He didn’t. Nobody who knew him on this ship would ever believe it. 

 

“Self governing,” Magnus repeated.

 

“To a high degree,” Megatron affirment. 

 

“....Have you gone mad?”

 

Yes.

 

“Of course I haven’t gone mad.”

 

“That’s exactly what a mad person would say.”

 

Time to lay it on. “Ultra Magnus, I greatly appreciate what you do for this ship. Your contributions to the Autobot cause and the Lost Lights continued success are admirable. Which is why I believe such a mech as yourself will realize the futility of introducing an administration of any kind to this ship of … well, this ship.”

 

Ultra Magnus’ expression hardened. “While I appreciate the sentiment I assure you this is entirely necessary. In my long years of service there is one truth to which I have held firm: Cybertron will stand or fall on the strength of its Internal Administration.”

 

That was … terrifying. The cold optics, the confident stance, the complete conviction in the efficacy of the bureaucratic process. It was Tarn all over again. Was this truly his life? Striving forward on a quest only to be hindered on all ends by red tape, needless paperwork, utter incompetence and insanity?

 

“I won’t do it. I will not sign off on another performance review,” he said intensely.

 

“Megatron, I think you’re unwell. Perhaps a trip to the Medbay is on order.”

 

“Promise me, Magnus! No performance reviews.”

 

“Yes, Megatron, of course. Now lets take a walk to the Medbay shall we?”

  
  


*

  
  
When Mandatory Risk Assessment day finally came Megatron was the first scheduled for assessment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The second I read the latest issue featuring the DJD and Tarns obsession with administration and performance management I knew I had to write this chapter. That's right, another chapter based entirely on one joke. I'd call this a fail but you all know me by this point, I thrive on fail. But seriously, can you see Megatron doing paperwork and performance reviews?
> 
> Fun fact about the cover of the latest issue, the one with Skids in handcuffs. I showed it to my friend and she said it was giving her a 90s yaoi feel. I concur. Is it too early to start shipping Skids/Tarn or is that too shameless?  
> .....Who am I kidding, I have no shame.


End file.
